Ancient Words: Ch. 18 "The Hunt", PG13, Sam, Dean, OC's
Title/Chapter: Ancient Words - Ch. 18 “The Hunt”
Author: Supernatural Mommy
Characters: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings
Spoilers: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare
Warnings: PG-13 now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter some religious references: Overall rated for language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em *pity*, but new characters are my own creation.
Summary: The hunt has truly begun. And things are spiraling out of control.
Author's Notes: Sequel to Look Into His Eyes. Please read through my author's notes Here (from first chapter) and Here (Chapter listing and summary with some minor plot spoilers) if you need more information, explanations, etc.
Chapter 18 - “The Hunt”
Andy crouched to the side of the farmhouse, watching intently as the men moved back and forth between the barn and the house. The man he’d tied up during his escape stumbled out of the house earlier, on the heels of a second man. They kept walking around carrying small items he couldn’t identify. Now they were having a heated conversation, but otherwise they didn’t seem to be looking around at all.
He frowned. That couldn’t be a good thing. What else was commanding their attention?
Continuing to watch intently, he decided he needed to be closer to make out what was going on. Knowing that Larkin had some type of ceremony planned and remembering again Bobby’s frozen face from his earlier vision, he felt a desperate pull to be nearer to where the action obviously was starting to heat up.
But just as he began to creep along the shadows of plants and trees, he was hit with a sudden need to drop. He did so, feeling like an idiot as his hands landed in sticky mud.
He looked out in front of him after staring at the earth for a moment, reacting swiftly when he saw large bare feet in front of his face. How had someone gotten the drop on him? He looked up, eyes wide, and deflated completely when he recognized the features.
He knelt on his knees and waited for some type of greeting.
“You must go back.” Andy stared at the heavenly being in disbelief. He needed to go to the barn. Needed to see to Bobby and Annie. Sam and Dean as well. They needed him there. “You are needed there, but first you must return.”
“But I don’t know what is going on in the barn. Larkin could be hurting them as we speak.” Andy felt like he needed to make the angel understand. He couldn’t possibly understand what was at risk.
“You believe I do not understand?” The angel raised one eyebrow in an expression of his own. His face was looking down on him squarely, with an expression that almost mirrored disappointment. “Pastor, why do you question? He would not lead you astray.”
Andy nodded even as his mind screamed. He needed to be with his friends. Why should he go back the way he came? The woman he left there was safe. He had left her maybe only a half hour before. Suddenly the two men he had been watching came to mind. There should have at least been one other man, and Larkin. What if?
The angel nodded as Andy made the connection and stumbled in his haste to turn back toward the small hiding place. He couldn’t see it from where he was, though. He glanced back, only to see the heavenly being had disappeared. He’d wonder about his sanity later, though. Right now, he needed to make sure the girl was okay. She was a sitting duck with her broken ankle. He refrained from running like a madman and stayed carefully to the shadows, listening intently and trying to discern if there was a threat. By the time he was within a few feet of the small hiding place, his ears caught the sound of a man talking.
And he didn’t sound very friendly.
Andy crept softly, carefully until he was just to the side of the little hideout within arm’s reach of the doorway around the corner. The man he heard was framed within the small doorway, bent over slightly.
“ . . .doesn’t have a use for you anymore. So I guess it’s time to say goodbye.” The man’s voice was cold and steady. “Or maybe we could have a little fun first.”
Andy flinched. The girl’s whimper reached his ears about the same time he decided a surprise approach would work best. Regretfully, he pulled the gun he had liberated earlier free from the waistband of his pants.
Arm steady, he carefully drew and cocked the gun inches from the man’s head as he stepped around the corner of the structure in one fluid movement. He saw the man tense and was ready when he whirled backwards.
The man was able to spin away so that the gun no longer pointed at his head, but Andy was still to the side, gun steady in his hand. He moved to frame the doorway, wanting to reassure the woman he was here. He could hear her panicked breathing behind him as he considered the best way to deal with his counterpart.
He saw the gun in the man’s hand come up from where it was hidden behind his hip. The man’s sneer was disgusting. The gun had to go first. With no hesitation, Andy produced a mid-level roundhouse kick, aiming and hitting the man’s gun-holding wrist. He heard the snap as it broke from the impact of the sharp kick.
He let his full momentum spin him around to face the man again, gun still held loosely in his left hand. He relaxed, letting his muscles fall into a familiar rhythm. The man gazed at him dismissively, lunging forward to knock the gun away. He succeeded, but didn’t see the bigger threat as Andy whirled to the side and threw a sharp jab forward, connecting forcefully with the man’s chest.
The man stepped back with a grunt, and then tensed as he appraised Andy once again. The pastor waited.
He didn’t have to wait long, as the frustrated man threw an ineffectual punch. Andy pulled to the side, taking hold of the man’s punch-throwing arm, yanking down and under the man with fierce strength. Pulled forward, the man ended up off balance and followed his arm. He landed on the ground, panting up at Andy in disbelief.
Andy stared at the man for a split second before he whipped his arm sharply forward. His closed fist connected with the man’s temple with a dull thud. His eyes closed behind the force of the blow, head jerking to the side. Andy quickly pulled his limp form to the side of the building.
He headed back inside the structure to check on the girl.
“Is he . . . did you . . .” She couldn’t seem to finish her sentence, her wide eyes and panicked breathing accentuating her terror.
Andy kneeled down in front of her.
“He’s out for now. He won’t be bothering you. Did he . . . hurt you before I made it?” Her head jerked to the side in a small negative to his question. His gaze on her gentled and he patted her shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Hopefully we’ll get out of here sometime soon. What was your name?”
“Lori . . . um . . . Lori Waters.”
“Well, Lori, you know how to handle a gun?” He waited for her answer, feeling relief at her sharp nod. He’d collected both guns from outside before and handed her one of them. He watched in satisfaction as she flipped the safety off, verifying she knew a little at least. He glanced to the side, eying an unused sheet.
“I’m going to tear some strips here so I can tie him up. Then I’ll leave him to the side, just underneath all the debris and brush out there. You hear him rouse you be ready with this gun . . . understand?” She nodded, eyes still wide. But at least she seemed a little steadier.
He leaned down, ripping the sheet into thick strips.
“Okay, I’ve got to head back to the barn. Sit tight.” He started toward the door, then stopped and turned. “If I don’t come back before morning, and no one else comes to get you, do what you have to and get out of here. It won’t be safe.” He ducked out of the building once again, turning to the side of the building to take care of the unconscious man before returning to his original mission.
He tied the man’s arms behind him and bound his ankles. After considering a moment, he gagged the man as well. Then he slowly covered old ground, moving steadily toward the barn.
Lord, I could use a little help here. I have no idea what’s about to happen but I know I’m going to need a little help. Give me strength, Lord. And let me know what I need to do as the time comes. Amen.
His frantic prayer was only answered by the nightmarish scene from his vision: The final scene with Bobby looking up at death, a single tear falling from his eye.
An answering tear fell from Andy’s eye, unfelt, as the mirage in his mind stayed present.
He was missing something from that snapshot. His eyes flew open as it hit him. Something was different about Bobby’s face. As that small fact hit him the answer punched him in the gut.
Oh dear Lord, what are we messing with here? He can’t be . . . used like that. He’s innocent, Lord. What . . .
His unspoken prayer halted as he neared the barn. He hid behind a small building to the side of the barn, collecting his thoughts, and his courage.
Because he suddenly knew what “He is the Key” really meant about Bobby. His research from so many days before allowed the pieces to connect in his mind. Provided him with the answers. And the knowledge that washed over him made him sink to his knees in fear.
Fear turned to desperation. And desperation turned to need. Still on the ground, he clasped his hands and pushed the vicious emotions into a single focus.
He prayed.
******************************************
He was scared.
This place was scary. He wanted to be brave. He wanted Sammy to be proud of him.
But he was still scared.
God? Where are you?
He backed away from the big man. The big man had whispered to him: Told him to not be scared; to be brave; but he was a bad guy.
And he was still scared.
He looked around the room until he saw Sammy. His friend was there. And now, it seemed a little easier. He looked at Sammy and wasn’t as scared now. But still some.
The man grabbed one of his hands. He tried to pull it away, but the man wouldn’t give it back.
The wet was in his eyes again. And he didn’t want it to be. But his hand was stuck to the table now. And even though he pulled, he couldn’t get it back.
He just wanted to get it back.
And then the man’s hand was heavy on his front. He tried to stay sitting. But the hand was heavy. And he fell back on the table. The wet was in his eyes. On his cheeks. The wet ran down into his ears, his hair. He couldn’t get away from it.
It needed to go away. The wet was … not right.
He looked over at the man again. He was hard to see. But Bobby could feel him pulling his other hand. He could feel the nasty rope. It scratched, and it hurt. He blinked, wanting the wet to go away.
He was scared. It was hard to be brave. He was trying. But it was hard.
He wanted to be brave, ‘cause Sammy was brave. And Sammy asked. He sniffed, and looked over at Sam again. He was still there.
He wanted to rock. Tried to rock. But his hands were stuck to the table. He made a sound. He couldn’t help it. That wasn’t loud enough. He needed to be louder.
He didn’t want to hear anything else. He didn’t want to hear the mean man speaking, or the other mean man whispering, or the shadows whispering mean things all around.
HE DIDN’T WANT TO HEAR THEM.
He screamed.
He couldn’t help it.
He felt more of the wet on his eyes, on his cheeks, in his ears.
He couldn’t help it.
He wanted away from here. It was hard to breath.
He was scared. He was mad.
He yelled. No words. Just yelled. The wet felt funny and it was all over now. And he couldn’t breath.
This was so hard.
He looked at Sammy. His friend was still watching him. His mouth was moving. He was talking. He should listen to Sammy, even though he would have to hear them too. Sammy was important, he was special. He should listen to him.
“… okay Bobby. I’m still here. Shhh, kiddo. Please? It’s okay.” The sound of Sammy’s voice was good. But he couldn’t understand the words. He could just hear his voice. The words were still there, but he couldn’t understand them anymore. Sam was still here. That was good.
Annie wasn’t here yet, but Sammy was. And that made it a little better. He could breath.
But now, someone else was here too: His special friend.
“Ja’ma’ee.” Jalmari looked at him. He smiled at him, and his big hand rested on his head.
Everything was better now. His special friend was here to help him.
“Remember I will be with you, little one. And God is with you too.” He liked the way Jalmari talked. It was soft. And it felt good. “Remember your words, even if you can’t talk. Remember your words, little one. And I will be here.”
His friend was all he could see. All he could feel. He felt something nasty put in his mouth. And it was hard to breath. But his special friend was right here. And Sammy was over there.
And he could be brave now.
**************************************************
Andy had prayed softly over the last several minutes.
He had registered sounds, screams, yelling, blurred along the edges as he prayed. Sounds tended to disappear in the background when he opened himself up to God. So it was with a dimmed awareness that when he finally pulled himself from his prayers he knew something was going on in the barn.
He thought he might have heard Sam scream. That was frightening in itself.
But confirming a worse fear was the sound of Bobby’s loud, guttural yelling that now pierced the air. The child sounded so frightened.
Suddenly the quiet night air stilled all noises and he could no longer make out anything that would hint as to what was happening in the barn.
It was time. While he was so frightened his big hands actually trembled, he knew it was time. He could feel the pressing need deep against his chest.
He knew there was so much more at stake now. This was more than one man’s demented attempt at pulling a demon through the veil.
He feared what would happen if he failed. He could not fail. Bobby was the key. He could not lose him.
*************************************************
She awoke alone and scared to death for her brother.
Bobby!
She looked around, not that he could hide in this tiny cell. Desperate now, her eyes widened as she heard his yelling echo down the hallway towards her.
“Bobby!” She only whispered his name, but as the tears burned her eyes she weakly sat up. The movement took more effort than she could admit but she needed to find a way to get to her brother. Oh dear Lord, let me near him. Help me save him. Please, Lord! Be with us. God . ..
A sound outside drew her attention. She wiped her eyes with a shaking hand to clear her vision, finally focusing on the big man outside the cell door. He held a gun. But nothing else.
“Where’s my brother?” She was trying for angry and threatening. But all she was able to croak out was a broken whisper. She looked at him. This man. She felt so much anger toward him, and the others, and especially Larkin. Such hate. It felt alien and wrong to her, and somehow oh so right as well.
“He’s already in the chamber. Now I need to get you. Stand up.” He motioned up with the gun as he unlocked and entered the cell. She tried. Fiercely tried and weakly fell to her knees at least half a dozen times. She finally looked up at him, panting from the exertion.
Something in his gaze felt different, but she didn’t have the energy to dwell on it. She was mad, disgusted with her body for betraying her. She needed to stand, to be able to go in where her brother was. She had to be there. She tried again.
She felt the cold weight of sweat drench her as she tried to pull her legs under her. The sheet she was clutching desperately to herself was damp, sticking to her and impeding her movement. With a frustrated groan she once again fell to her knees.
At this point she was shaking so badly so couldn’t seem to find coherent thought. Except for Bobby. She had to get to Bobby. He vision blurred as tears once again filled her eyes. She didn’t have the energy left to wipe them away.
“Please, I . . . can’t . . .” She panted out the detested words and fought to stay conscious.
The man was at her side a moment later.
“I’ll get you. Look. Um. Your brother is okay right now. He’s calmed down.” She tried to follow the man’s words. Why was he telling her this? “Shit. Man. Look, lady, I never meant to get all caught up in this kind of crap. I’m stuck though.”
He looked at her almost pleadingly, and she realized now what he was doing. He wanted her to understand, to forgive him, or something.
“You’re a coward.” She paused, panting slightly to catch her breath. The right words Lord, please help me find the right words. “If you know something’s wrong and you do it anyway, that’s bad enough. If you know something’s wrong, and your whole body is fighting against doing it, but you do it anyway, that makes you a coward. You have to be ready, sometimes, to fight for what is right.”
She looked at this huge man. He was getting ready to take her to a certain kind of hell. But if she could find a way to get through to him . . . No, it was out of her hands. Lord, I can’t do anything more here. But you can work in his heart. Help him Lord. Help him choose to do the right thing.He looked down at her and she couldn’t read the expression on his face. Her head fell forward and she felt him move behind her, typing her arms behind her. She listed to the side, unable to hold herself steady anymore.
He leaned her against his chest while he reached over her slight form to finish tying her wrists together. He crouched down, now holding her up with a hand against her good shoulder.
She could read the shame in his deep eyes and she closed her eyes against the emotions there. She couldn’t do this. She shouldn’t feel sorry for this man. No! But her quiet heart did. She felt pity for him. He felt trapped. She could sense it radiating off him in waves.
She felt the slight pressure holding her up leave and then she was once again held up against his chest. He was tying a gag around her mouth. She stemmed the panic and tried to remember the peace.
She forced herself to meet his eyes when he again back away from her, holding her shoulder to keep her sitting. She shook from the effort her body was still putting forth.
She still couldn’t tell what the man was thinking. He leaned closer and she tensed, shaking more from the effort.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could do more. And I guess that does make me a coward.” She felt something placed carefully in her hand. Felt her fingers forced to cover the cool smoothness. “Hold that careful, it’s sharp. Maybe it can help a little.”
She felt weightless for a moment as he pulled her swiftly up to hold against him. Blinking her eyes as the black spots again took over, she tried to still her racing heart. Oh Lord, help me.
He was carrying her easily, and as her eyes fell closed in exhaustion, she grasped the knife in her hand even tighter. Give me a chance, Lord.
****************************************************
Trembling, Lori pulled the gun to rest in her stronger hand. The nice guy who’d helped her had been gone for a while now, and she was sick of waiting.
The safety was still off on the gun, and it was staying off. She needed to be ready. Just in case.
She heard a snap just outside the small shack and tensed, raising the gun with a trembling hand. The soft scuffles of some small creature scritch-scratched across the ground, making her shake her head at her jumpiness.
Long minutes passed. She could make out the muffled sounds of the man tied up to the side of the building. She hoped he was secure, ‘cause the thought of him out there scared her silly.
Not that she’d ever admit it to . . . what was that?
A small snap.
She listened intently. It was on the opposite side and she scanned the wall, wishing for x-ray vision. She heard something, just the slightest rustle. Again she raised the gun, steadying it as best she could in a trembling hand.
She aimed toward the doorway, ready to focus at the first sign of an actual target. She didn’t have to wait long. She heard the soft sound of a light step just before a leg appeared at the bottom of the doorway.
She’d wait for a better target. Center of body mass. Self defense 101. She took it for a reason, a lot of good it did her now. She waited, not even daring to breath.
But when the larger target appeared, she found herself shaking too hard to pull the trigger.
It was a man. She closed her eyes to try and summon courage, and took a deep breath. Steadying the gun she held she backed up slightly to look into the eyes of the man braced inside the doorway.
“Don’t come any closer. I’ll shoot.” She meant to sound threatening, but it came out as a whisper instead. Weird, the man held his own gun, but when his hazel eyes met hers, he held his hands out submissively.
He looked familiar.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I came here to help.” He studied her, and seemed like he was willing her to believe him. And for the strangest reason, she wanted to.
*****************************************
He was crouched to the side of the old playhouse type structure. It looked like it had seen better days. His head was cocked, listening intently when he heard the slight rustling sound of a small creature scuttling at his feet. He could hear some kind of muffled sounds coming from the other side of the building.
His gun arm was relaxed but wary. As he looked around in the quickly darkening evening, he could feel the evil presence in the air, almost smell it. Which must be why he crossed the doorway without even considering someone could be inside the ancient structure. Idiot!
He turned to confront the person he sensed, but had to lower his eyes to find the woman sitting almost against the small wall of the structure. She backed away slightly but held firm. He had to admire her steadiness as she held the gun straight ahead, centered at his chest. Too bad her whole body was shaking. It kind of took away from the threat.
“Don’t come any closer. I’ll shoot.” Her strangled whisper made him wince. He was just close enough to see that she had a flannel shirt on, and a blanket coming out from under it. The bruising all over her face, the matted hair and dried blood and bruising around her ankles told of something horrible.
But her almost wild eyes scared him into speaking.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I came here to help.” He said it as softly, gently, as he could. He even went so far as to hold his hands out relaxing his gun within his grip so that it wouldn’t threaten her.
She looked like she wanted to believe him. But those eyes. Man. Those eyes. He met them unflinchingly, waiting for her to get it. To trust him.
“It’s okay. I swear. I’m here to help.” He kneeled down to study her a little closer. She flinched and he stayed put. “Look, what’s your name?”
“Lori.” She inched away, wincing.
“Lori, I’m Dean. I swear I’m not going to hurt you. I think my brother and our friends might be here. I need to find them.” He studied her carefully. A soft thumping sound and muffled cursing sounded along the side of the shack. Dean listened to it for a moment then met those haunted eyes again. “Friend of yours?”
“No.” Her gaze swung sharply to the wall, as the thumping continued.
“Did someone help you out here? Tall, dark hair. Looked like he needed a haircut?” She shook her head, looking confused.
“No, he was tall. But his hair was cut short.” She looked again to the side as the thumping continued. She wrapped her arms around herself almost protectively.
“I’ll be right back.” He went around the side of the building and found the noisemaker under some debris and plants there. The man’s wide eyes barely had a chance to meet his before Dean brought his fist down hard on the man’s temple. He went back inside, again crouching softly, carefully in front of the scared woman.
“He’s not going to bother you, I promise, okay?” He met her gaze, heartened to see some resolve there. “Now, I need to go find my brother and friends. You don’t know anything about where they might be, do you?”
“The barn. I know there’s supposed to be something going on in the barn tonight.” She bit her lip.
“We’ll be back to get you. It’ll be okay.” He wished he was as calm as he sounded. He didn’t miss just how badly hurt this girl was, and just hoped to have his brother and the others back in one piece. And maybe hurt Larkin. A lot. That resolve in mind, he stood.
“Stay sharp. But don’t shoot me!” He met her gaze with a small grin, hoping it would let her know he was teasing, kind of. Something about chicks and guns. Why did they like trying to shoot him?
He shook his head sharply, heading around the side of the house to scout the area and assess the risks.
It was time to hunt some Larkin.