Death in the Mountains

Chapter 13: Officer Down; Warrior Called
WARNING: This chapter contains graphic violence and character deaths.

***When I write a death scene, they tend to be realistic. There is no single-stab-to-the-chest and leave a pretty corpse scene here. There is not pointless gore, either. It is to drive home the fact that these characters are ‘people’ and their deaths have significance beyond ‘oh, this is what I need the plot to do.’ Their deaths have deeper meaning. If you do not want to read the actual death scenes but want to stay with the story, skip the first section of this chapter. I will put a short synopsis of who died without the gore immediately after it. ***


Deputy Joe LeDonne pulled his blue Honda in behind Martha's police cruiser on the narrow road leading to Greer’s Cove. He opened the door of his car, wiping the sweat from his brow, the heat was oppressive. It was almost noon and as he stood up he was blinded momentarily by the sun which was topping the tall oak trees on the north side of the road. He glanced away and noticed the clouds building in the northwest. The weather reports were predicting a storm in a few hours.

Hearing voices, he turned shading his eyes with his hand to see Martha Ayers and Old Rattler emerging from some brush about 40 feet away, walking toward him. Martha seemed surprised to see him and hailed him.

“Joe! What are you doing up here?”

He frowned, confused. “You called and asked me to bring lunch.”

As Martha and Rattler continued to approach they passed through the shadow of a huge oak tree. LeDonne saw something materialize right behind the two of them. It was at least 12 feet tall. Shaped like a man, its skin seemed to glow with a sickly green tint. It raised a massive, clawed hand to strike.

LeDonne screamed a warning as he ran forward, drawing his sidearm. Martha and Rattler turned as those green claws descended on their unprotected bodies. Joe barely had time to blink before Martha was down in a torrent of gore. The creature swelled like an engorged tick feeding on Martha's life blood. LeDonne emptied his gun into the creature. The bullets had no effect on it.

With preternatural speed the claws slashed Rattler. Joe saw the old man move with an agility he didn’t think possible to throw something at the creature. The claws found their mark, shearing Rattler’s head from his body, crushing his head and mangling his torso. Whatever Rattler threw exploded on impact. Rattler’s blood, skin, bone and brain matter splattered over Joe’s face, hands and chest as the creature screamed and faded just as rapidly as it appeared.

Joe was a Desert Storm veteran and he had seen carnage before, but this was nothing like a human or animal attack. He had a hard time processing what he had just seen. His police training took over and he numbly scanned the ground for footprints or any evidence of the creature's existence. His bullets had hit something; there were no bullet holes in the tree trunk.

Joe knelt beside Martha's body, his heart falling as he looked into her empty brown eyes opened in surprise. He gently closed them. Her chest had been slashed open with her lungs laid bare, a hole where her heart should have been. She had bled out in seconds. His hands, covered in both Rattler’s and Martha’s blood, fumbled for her shoulder radio. It was dead. Rising to his feet, holstering his empty gun, LeDonne walked back to Martha’s cruiser to radio for assistance. Not that it mattered; it was too late to help Martha and Rattler.

~*~

***Joe LeDonne on an errand to bring lunch, witnesses the demon killing Martha and Old Rattler. He now believes in the supernatural. ***

~*~

The next few hours were a blur for Joe LeDonne. He remembered just disjointed bits; Millie looking green, Spencer’s eyes looking far too old. The overriding emotion that brought him out of his shock was rage.

Rage that the thing that had taken Martha and Old Rattler’s lives dared to exist. That there was another world out there, alongside the one he knew. A world where boundaries were not fixed and regulated by the rules he knew; a world of monsters, demons and ghosts. A world where a woman who had worked so hard to fulfill her dreams of becoming a sheriff’s deputy and an old man that had saved Joe’s life could be savagely butchered by a shape in the shadows.

This supernatural world had made an invasion into his life. Now he was going to fight back. After the events of the past few days, he knew exactly who to see about joining this battle, this crusade; if they would let him. He didn’t care that Dean Winchester might try to beat the crap out of him first.

A few moments later, Spencer interrupted his thoughts. LeDonne looked up at the touch of a hand on his shoulder. He became aware of Kelly struggling not to cry while she tried to calm Kayla’s near hysterics.

Spencer’s eyes were red-rimmed as he quietly asked LeDonne to follow him into his office. “Joe, can you bring in the Winchester brothers for me?”

LeDonne looked at him blankly for a moment. “They didn’t have anything to do with this. Spencer, I saw it.”

Spencer nodded. “I know. We can’t call a search or involve other law enforcement agencies. They’d just be…they couldn’t deal with the situation.” Spencer swallowed. “We’re an officer down and Sam and Dean Winchester might be the only ones that can stop this.”

Joe LeDonne walked slowly out to his Honda, still in his blood-stained civilian clothes, dried blood crusted in his hairline. He didn’t have time to go home and change or shower. He could have called Vera Kesterson and got in touch with the brothers that way. Joe couldn’t imagine trying to explain this over the phone. He’d see them face to face.


~*~

Jay grunted in annoyance as he dumped another shovel full of horse shit into the wheelbarrow. He knew why Aunt Vera had given him this job. She was still pissed at him over the incident with Sam. He loved her, but sometimes his aunt could hold on to a grudge.

Jay thought back on the events that led him to mucking out the entire horse stable. At least he wasn’t out in the hot sun. Overall, he was glad to be living here on the farm with Aunt Vera, Sam and Dean. But he'd be in deeper shit if his aunt knew the whole story of what happened in Chattanooga. She’d be really angry with him if she knew he had gotten involved with Light Feather after she’d warned him to stay away from him. That was her only objection to him attending her alma mater; Light Feather being so close to him.

Jay wondered if he should go ahead and tell her before everything hit the media. Light Feather had played him, Dean and Sam for fools. Jay had almost told Dean yesterday before the arrest, but he quickly realized that Vera and Dean were presenting a united front. He couldn’t play one off against the other in this situation to keep the trouble he was about to get into to a minimum.

Jay thrust the shovel upright into a mound of shit for a moment and pulled off his sweaty t-shirt to wipe off his face, his back itching from little bits of hay. His mind drifted back to that disturbing night he’d spent in the Hamilton County lock up…

Jay had been sitting in a holding cell, staring at the dirty, off-white cinder block walls. He had a cell to himself and it was surprisingly quiet. It was about oh-god-o’clock in the morning and Jay was left thinking about how this was going to impact the rest of his life.

Jay knew he had done the right thing. The Uktena was dead, people would stop dying and the Native American remains and grave goods were going to be reburied in a secret location by a local Native American activist group. Jay had refused to give up the names of his partners in crime, Sam and Dean Winchester. He wasn’t a rat and he knew that they had saved a lot of people over the years. Besides, Dean had been hurt pretty badly and didn’t need to spend time in jail. Jay had family that would post bail and hire lawyers to defend him but the brothers didn’t. Aunt Vera would understand, even if Mom and Dad did not. Well, Dad might, but he wouldn’t admit it around Mom.

Jay was trying to figure out how the police had arrested him so quickly.

His fingerprints were all over the archaeology lab, but Sam and Dean had worn gloves. There were no cameras in the lab and Jay knew how to avoid the campus security cameras. While his fellow freshmen were partying their first week on campus, Jay had befriended some of the guys who worked campus security. He knew the patrol schedules and when shifts changed. It always paid to be prepared. There were over twenty people, not counting the janitorial staff that had keys to the lab. Jay had distracted the head of the lab while he was leaving and he had forgotten to turn on the alarm. Well, he did more than distract him. Jay had learned the fine art of psychic misdirection from Aunt Vera. Something else she would kill him for if she ever found out. She had a big thing about “abusing” normal people. Jay didn’t understand why she’d taught him all this stuff if they weren’t supposed to use it.

Jay jumped off the cot when he heard a door clang open at the end of the hall, hoping that Aunt Vera had made it down to bail him out. He was surprised to see it was Light Feather, otherwise known as John Pacer. He was a Chattanooga city cop and he had made it clear that he could not be implicated in any way. Jay figured Light Feather had heard about his arrest.

“Did you call my aunt?” Jay asked in an intense undertone.

Light Feather just shook his head and smiled. “No, I called your parents.”

Jay blinked. Light Feather's attitude seemed almost smug. “How’d I get caught?” Jay asked after a moment.

If anything, Light Feather’s grin just got broader. “Anonymous tip.”

“Who? Who could have seen us…” Jay trailed off, looking at Light Feather’s shit-eating grin. “It was you! But why?"

Light Feather raised his hand in warning. “Nothing personal, Jay. I’m just getting tired of chasing the Kesterson clan out of my territory.”

Jay stared open mouthed, “What the hell are you talking about?” He managed to ask after a few seconds.

Light Feather’s expression became maliciously gleeful. Jay felt like he was talking to a different person, not the man who had helped them battle the Uktena.

“You mean that precious Aunt Vera of yours still hasn’t figured it out yet?” He shook his head. “She's a book smart and talented psychic. A little above average power wise, but her knowledge and skill make it easy for her to hold her own against the big boys. Great trainer, by the way. One of the best I’ve ever seen, actually. Maybe the best out there.” He looked appraisingly at Jay a moment. “Did an excellent job with you. If I thought she wouldn’t flat out refuse, I’d send her a few of my people to her for part of their training.” He smiled again, showing way too many teeth. “But in other ways amazingly dense and naive.”

Jay was reeling, he was exhausted, hungry, bruised from the fight with the Uktena and sleep deprived. This whole night seemed surreal. “Your people? What is she being dense about?” Jay felt like his knees were about to give out from under him.

Jay just about shit himself when Light Feather spun around to turn off the security camera. Jay stumbled back from the cell door, wondering exactly what Light Feather was going to do to him.

Light Feather just grinned, “Finally wising up, I see. Don’t worry, I’m not about to perform a little police brutality on you.” Light Feather pulled up a chair. “Sit down. Since Vera is so dense, I guess I’ll have to provide some training that she can’t. I know you’re tired, but pay attention. I don’t want to repeat myself here. Then again, you saved me a lot of time and trouble by taking care of the Uktena, so I guess it’s not too much of a chore.”

Jay sunk back onto his bed.

Jay sat there stunned as Light Feather told him about the Hunter and Guardian community. Actually, he learned, those terms were beginning to become archaic. As the country was becoming more populated what were once Guardian and Hunter groups were merging. Only about half the groups now stayed in one place or traveled exclusively. Apparently there were more than enough supernatural menaces to keep everyone busy. Most groups had a home base where they defended their community and a large area around it. In larger cities they actually had numerous groups that worked both independently and together for big cases. Just about everyone called themselves simply Guardians these days.

“But, but what does that have to do with…” Jay interrupted a little dazed.

Light Feather smiled again, but this time it was with more understanding. “I know you’re tired Jay, but we’re almost done. I’m the Guardian leader in Chattanooga and the surrounding area. I knew the moment I saw Vera that she was a Guardian leader, just not for my area. She was all of seventeen when she got here, and I was willing to tolerate her for a few years while she got her degree. I even did some of her early training. After she graduated, though, Vera thought to stay here, and I couldn’t have that. I knew she needed to be someplace else, so I started annoying and hassling her until she left.”

“About the Uktena, well, my group could have taken it, but you were here and the Winchester boys showed up.” Light Feather laughed. “I had these three youngsters all anxious to take care of it, so why should I get in your way? It was good training for you. The Winchester boys are just cannon fodder. As long as you survived in one piece I didn’t care what happened to them.”

Jay stared at him. Light Feather leaned forward in his seat. “Boy, don’t you get it? You’re a Guardian too, just a very young one. You needed to learn some lessons. Look before you leap and don’t trust people so damned easy. Roaming, homeless low rent Hunters like Sam and Dean are there to be used. They’re pretty damned clueless so use ‘em up to save your own stable of talent. You, on the other hand,” Light Feather leaned back and shrugged, “you have somebody to claim you. As much as Vera and I don’t get along, you’re still the nephew of one of my former students. Have to admit, though, I was disappointed when Dean didn’t die. Wouldn’t have minded recruiting Sam, but Dean would be too much of a pain in the ass to put up with and those two would never leave one another.”

“But why have me arrested?” Jay asked. He was totally awake now, and furious. He kept his shields tightly in place, projecting bewilderment. Something else Aunt Vera had taught him, layering shields, projecting false auras and emotions, hiding what he was even from other psychics. Damn it, she was right, both about Light Feather and how important it was to stay hidden from everyone.

“Oh, I’m killing two birds with one stone.” Light Feather was smug again. “I’ve gotten you expelled, which means you’ll be leaving my territory. Take my advice, Jay; you should be with Vera. Second, you make a cute poster boy for Native American activism. Just think of it, noble teenaged college student risks all to steal sacred objects from insensitive archaeologist so Indians can rebury them. You’re good looking, smart, articulate; that both your aunt and father attended college here just makes it better. More of a sacrifice, you see. You know you can’t point a finger at me, and I’m sure due to your aunt’s influence you’ll be noble enough to give those impassioned interviews to the press. You know what you did is right. I wouldn’t worry about the charges. They’ll be dropped eventually. I know the district attorney, he’ll fold. The worst that’ll happen is that you’ll have a few court appearances. There will be Native American groups protesting for you, every member of the Wanna Be Tribe and liberal out there will be outraged on your behalf and making phone calls and writing letters. Donations to Native American groups will start rolling in and it will raise awareness for Native American issues. You’ll get your fifteen minutes of fame and it’ll do someone some good. There will be colleges offering to take you; probably better ones than UTC. Of course, no one will ever let you near an archaeology lab again, but a career in archaeology really isn’t a good one for a young Guardian.” Light Feather smirked. “Try law enforcement or criminal justice.”

Light Feather stood up. “I’ll go call your parents now.” He grinned at Jay’s look of shock that he hadn’t called them yet. “Don’t be surprised, I wanted to be sure we had time for our little talk. I’ll ensure you have this cell to yourself until you are released. I’ll see what I can do to get your bail lowered or waived since it is your first offense; depends on who the judge is.” He paused. “I’d call Vera, but like I said, I’m tired of Kestersons in my area. Your dad is bad enough, but at least he isn’t a psychic or Guardian.” He smiled again. “Hope you learned from this, and take care of yourself Jay.” With that, he flipped back on the security camera and left Jay sitting there.

The memory still made Jay flush with anger. He adjusted his grip on the shovel and dug into another pile of horse dung. Aunt Vera had told him something that his Great Grandma Vera Louise “Rattling Gourd” Kesterson once said. “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.” Jay wasn’t going to be tricked by Light Feather again. He had a score to settle with him, Guardian or not. The bastard had the nerve to think Sam and Dean were “cannon fodder” and hoped that Dean would die. Jay wondered if Light Feather had tried to set up Dean in some way and that’s how he got hurt. A slight psychic or magic nudge at the right time could have done it. During the fight Jay had a split second flash of precognition that made him yell out a warning to Dean so he missed the worst of the Uktena’s blow. Dean had only ended up with some broken ribs instead of a broken spine, or worse. Interesting, he had just gotten the brothers to Erlanger hospital and was driving back to campus when he was arrested. A little too neat now that he thought about it.

Jay decided to keep his mouth shut for now. This had become something personal between him and Light Feather. He’d settle the score with him. He didn’t know how yet, but the bastard was going to pay.


~*~

Joe LeDonne pulled his Honda into the driveway of Vera Kesterson’s farm. He put the car in park and just sat there staring at the house. Joe couldn’t believe he actually considered Vera Kesterson a suspect, or Sam and Dean Winchester. He saw it, and still didn’t know what it was.

Joe crumpled in his seat, pain tearing at his chest as he gasped. Martha was dead. He would go home, eventually, and see her clothes in the hamper and her favorite coffee mug in the sink. Her voice was still on their answering machine. Joe would eventually lie in a bed that still held Martha’s scent, with her hairs on the pillow. Joe’s mind flashed to her broken body. Her blood was still under his fingernails, he could still see Martha’s chest tore open and her eyes staring. And Old Rattler. Dear God, what had that old man ever done to deserve to die like that?

Joe took a deep breath and sternly brought himself under control. He had some hunting to do.

~*~

Dean and Vera were out in the vegetable garden. Dean thought he’d never be able to look at another tomato again. It would be a relief to finish harvesting this garden. Vera didn’t want anyone besides herself or Jay in the herb garden, for which he was grateful. Who knew that dandelions were edible or that mint would take over a garden if you weren’t careful? At least she didn’t have him shoveling shit out of the horse barn like Jay.

“Hullo! Vera? Anyone home?” Both he and Vera stood up and walked around the house towards the voice. Dean froze when he saw who it was. Beside him Vera tensed.

Joe cleared his throat. “Dean, I need you and Sam to come back down to the station. Vera, you might want to come too.” Joe’s voice was very soft for him, and there wasn’t the usual sense of command behind it that it usually carried.

“Why?” Vera asked bluntly before Dean could find his voice around his anger.

Joe LeDonne actually flinched before looking Dean in the eye. “Martha and Rattler are dead.” The words spilled out of his mouth. Joe couldn’t think of any easier way to say it. It was usually Spencer or Martha that went to break bad news to families. Dean swayed slightly. Rattler was gone.

“How?” Vera asked softly. A sarcastic part of Dean’s mind that refused to turn off, snickered at Vera being reduced to monosyllables once again.

Joe shuddered, not breaking eye contact with Dean. “I saw it.”

Dean suddenly understood. Joe LeDonne had the same look on his face his father had when he was thinking about the night mom died. The awful moment when the eyes look on the impossible and acknowledge the truth of what they had seen. LeDonne did not just mean he witnessed the deaths of Martha and Rattler, he meant he had seen the supernatural evil that exists in this world and now was no longer ignorant of it.

For the first time, Dean noticed the dried blood on LeDonne’s shirt and caked in his short hair. Dean swallowed his anger for now. LeDonne was coming to him looking for more than help, he had a purpose as well. Dean could see it in the set of his jaw and the stiffness of his posture. Here was another warrior, and Dean acknowledged him as one with a slight nod of his head. Some of the tension left Joe’s jaw, realizing he had been accepted. For two people who supposedly weren’t psychic Dean and Joe communicated just fine without words. Like his father, like Sammy and himself, LeDonne was a warrior called to this battle.

Vera looked between the two of them, confused. “What?”


~*~

Pascal Comeau was bored. He was sitting in the Gatlinburg-Pigeon Forge Airport in Sevierville, Tennessee waiting for the rest of the contact team. Pascal stayed slumped in his plastic chair. He glanced at the other members of the Comacine security team, trying to evaluate the entertainment potential of his team mates. He gave up after a moment. They were all a lot older than him. The next youngest was Cheryl Sutherland, but she was former Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Her idea of fun would be kicking his ass while watching NASCAR. Atin Lono could be a lot of fun, he was older but his laid back attitude made him seem a lot younger. He was in a serious looking conversation with Greg Timmons, the security team leader. Pascal had to admit, they did look impressive together. Greg was only about 5’8”, but seemed a lot taller because of his stocky build. His deep brown eyes were very large, making it easy to approach him despite his rippling biceps. He was one of those black guys that had perfect teeth; when he smiled Pascal swore he could blind half a room. Atin was a lot taller and dark skinned as well, but he was Samoan. He had a full traditional Pe'a tattoo from his lower back to just below his knees. Atin was wearing shorts so you could see the complex design on his legs. A lot of the yokels were staring, but Atin ignored them. He was good at that. The other member of the team, Miriam Rosenbaum, was in a deep conversation with Cheryl.

Pascal was restless with waiting for the medical team to show up. At least they were bringing Zip Valdez with them. They had met a few times and Zip was just a little younger than him, so they should be able to find something to do together. At least Zip wouldn’t be obsessed with these two Winchester guys. He glanced at the older members of the team. For the past 24 hours all the old timers were swapping Winchester stories. All this drama over a couple of homeless Hunters. Pascal crossed his arms in annoyance. He was insulted that he was chosen to be on the team just because he was about the same age as the younger brother.

“We are trying to put the two of them more at ease,” Greg had explained, “having a few people closer to their age will help. If things get physical, stay out of Sam and Dean’s way. You’re good, but you can’t take Dean. Just try to be there for Sam.” Try to be there? He wasn’t a therapist!

Pascal was relieved to see Atin waving to someone and saw Mike Jensen’s tall profile. Wait a second; was that Lin Yao Chin with him? Yes! This assignment had taken a turn for the better! She was a couple years older than him, but he’d had his eye on her since he was sixteen. Petite, gorgeous skin, long black hair with punk rock streaks of electric blue and blood red and a tongue piercing. Oh, the things he imagined she could do with that… Lin Yao only got away with her punk fashion sense because her boss was Jensen. Now that man knew how to have a good time, but when he was working he was the most dedicated hard ass you could ask for. The phrase ‘work hard, play hard’ had been created just for him. Pascal secretly idolized Mike Jensen. He grinned when he saw Zip tagging along at Lin Yao’s elbow. The poor guy was barely taller that she was. As if he had a chance. After seeing Lin Yao, the rest of the medical team completely escaped his attention.

Pascal bounced to his feet, but collapsed back into his chair as he was hit with a severe case of vertigo. He gasped and his hands clutched the arm rests. Pascal’s vision suddenly grayed.

Confusing flashes of images, like old black-and-white photographs that spun and twisted. A large oak tree. A cave bathed in a weird light. A guy about his age, crazy tall with shaggy dark hair. Two mangled bodies. A bloody quartz crystal. A woman in a dirty blue dress. A violent thunderstorm. A man with short hair and a face like an angry hawk ready to strike. Lightening ripping through the mountains and dancing around a field. Two inhuman, gigantically tall forms with talons for fingers. A sword shining in candlelight. A woman thrown against a stone altar, lying broken at its base. A wet, hissing cat. A tall kid yelling at Atin. An intense feeling of desperation, torment and rage.

Suddenly he was staring into the deep brown eyes of a tall man with long, jet black hair. Pascal felt a brief flash of regret from him before the man slammed his palm into his forehead.

Pascal's world tilted and he slid out of the chair and onto the floor retching. Damn it, he wasn’t an uncontrolled seer! Pascal had never lost control like that. He was born into a Comacine family, he was trained from birth! Pascal’s visions had never incapacitated him; they were always clear and crisp, almost always one hundred percent accurate. His vision range was short, generally only an hour or so into the future, but this felt like a lot longer than that.

Pascal flushed as he felt hands on him and distantly heard voices. No, this couldn’t be a true vision. It was nothing other than a series of impressions, nothing useful at all.

Pascal tried to wave everyone off as he struggled back to his feet but he found himself pushed back into the chair. “Maudit, wha’t’fuck? Pis tout’l’monde a croaqué… c’était comme un weird de rêve. Worriez pas, ej’ai juste buvais trop hier soir." he mumbled. (Damn, what the fuck? like everyone was dead… some kind of weird dream. Don’t worry, I just had too much to drink last night. (Apologies to Acadiens, this is an approximation of Chiac.)

He blinked and saw Cheryl’s impatient face above him. "English or French, Pascal, I don't speak Chiac." Pascal could hear Zip yapping excitedly about a dialect he didn’t know, trying to translate what he’d just said. Just his luck to have a linguistics genius around for this.

“It’s nothing,” Pascal tried to sound casual as he looked around at the rest of the team. He was so embarrassed. No way was he going to confess to having a rogue vision. “Just had too much to drink last night.” He felt a warm hand on his neck and glanced over to see LaShonda Miller’s intense gaze. Pascal stifled a groan. Crap, there was no way he could hide this from her. The woman could scan a body and make a medical diagnosis with a touch; you didn’t need an x-ray, CAT or MRI scan with her around.

“Bull shit,” was her blunt diagnosis. “There isn’t any alcohol in your system.” LaShonda pinned him with an accusing glare, “You just had a rogue vision.”

Pascal tried looking away, beyond embarrassed; this was a serious blow to his pride. Wherever he tried turning his gaze, he saw another team member looking at him.

Zip frowned. “Didn’t you say something about people being dead?” Pascal groaned.

Atin knelt in front of him. “I can Feel that you’re embarrassed, but you need to tell us what you saw.” Pascal swallowed and looked up at Atin. He saw the other man frown as he took his chin. “Did you hit your head?” he asked.

Pascal was getting more confused. “No, why?”

Atin touched his forehead and Pascal was surprised that it was sore. “You have a bruise forming.”

Greg appeared behind Atin, his face carefully nonjudgmental. Pascal might be a hell raiser when not on duty and paid a bit too much attention to the ladies, but he was solid. If he was having uncontrolled visions, something was very wrong about this mission.

With a little more encouragement, Pascal told them what he had Seen. Atin, Mike, Greg and Ben Jorgensen, a psychology expert kept exchanging looks. After he finished, Ben spoke softly. “Pascal, I don’t think you had a rogue vision, I think that was a Visitation.”

Pascal gaped at him, if anything, that was worse! He rapidly crossed himself, not something he did often. “I’m…I’m not some sort of…of…mystic!” Pascal spat out that last word.

Ben nodded his head, trying to calm him. “I don’t think you are. Spirits can be opportunistic, and being a Seer, you were the easiest one to communicate with.”

Greg looked troubled as he turned to Mike. “It sounds like there is some kind of inter-dimensional in the area. That’s not something we are equipped to deal with. We were formed as a contact and extraction team. We usually leave this type of situation to the Knights. Should we still go in?”

Mike’s face showed a flash of …was it obsession? “I say we still go in. The Winchesters could be in danger. We can call Hradani and ask her to contact the Knights for back up.”

Greg nodded his head. This was going to be a Hell of a mission.

~*~

They brooded in the dark. They had failed to kill the new Warrior before he had been called. Who knew that the old Guardian still had so much skill or agility? The young Guardian and psychic Hunter were still vulnerable. All they needed was bait for the trap.

~*~

“Fuck,” Dean swore softly from the passenger’s side of Vera’s truck.

“Still can’t get a hold of Sam?” Vera asked tensely. They had left for the sheriff’s station as soon as they told Jay what happened. Jay stayed behind to keep an eye on the farm and to answer any phone calls.

“It keeps saying that he is ‘out of range’,” he muttered. Dean’s jaw kept working silently. Vera could see and feel his distress and knew he was holding back tears. She decided to give him some space, let him open up to her if he wanted to. She could understand holding back emotions when you had a job to do. Unfortunately, it could become a habit and carry over after the crisis had passed.

Vera shook her head. “Cell phone reception can be iffy up here. The storm coming in probably isn’t helping. Why don’t you try calling Betsy at the KOA office?”

Dean was silent for a moment. “I did that when you were talking to Jay. She saw him about an hour and a half ago when he came in for water. Betsy said she’ll have him call the next time she sees him.”

“Want to go and check on him after we get through at the sheriff’s station?” Vera asked quietly. Dean nodded his head.

Neither of them said anything when Griffin emerged from hiding and settled himself into Dean’s lap. Dean’s only response was to pick up his familiar and snuggle him to his chest.

~*~

The atmosphere in the sheriff’s office was one of crushing, oppressive grief. Kelly was crying quietly when Dean and Vera arrived. A little girl, blue-eyed with long blond hair stared at them as they came in. Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that she was going to be important to him sometime in the future. Joe LeDonne had finally gone home to take a shower and change into a uniform. It was obvious that he was dreading it, but he had to subject himself to the private hell of the home he had shared with Martha, haunted by memories of just that morning. Griffin trotted at Dean’s heels. It was obvious at this point that as long as they made sure he didn’t get left behind, Griffin would stay with Dean. Dean was secretly comforted by the presence of his familiar.

Spencer, looking tired and worn, his uniform sweaty and his blond hair unusually unkempt, silently waved them into his office.

Spencer motioned them to take a seat. “Thank you for coming,” Spencer said softly as he slid around the desk and sat down. Everyone's distress was so deep that when Griffin jumped onto the edge of Spencer’s desk, no one even mentioned it. “Where’s Sam?” Spencer asked with a concerned crease on his forehead.

Dean cleared his throat. “He’s up at the KOA. Can’t get in touch with him. We’re driving up there after we leave here.”

Spencer nodded. “LeDonne told you?” He asked without looking at Dean or Vera.

Dean was silent for a moment, hating the fact that Spencer was refusing to talk openly. “Yes.”

Spencer finally looked at Dean. “We need another deputy.” There was a strange silence in the office. It was as if time had stilled. Dean looked around at the dark wood paneling and deep green carpet of the room. Spencer looked down for a moment. “We need someone who knows how to deal with the situation.” With a hand that trembled slightly, Spencer pulled a deputy’s badge from his desk drawer and set it down in front of Dean. Griffin began sniffing it.

The sheriff looked into Dean’s face. “I’m offering you a job.” Spencer looked back down and shuffled some papers on his desk. “We can worry about the paperwork, uniform and name plate later.”

Dean swallowed and just nodded, his jaw stiff and jutting. Spencer stood up and Dean did as well.

“Please raise your right hand and repeat after me.” Spencer’s voice was strong and firm, though gravelly with grief. Dean recited the Wake County deputy sheriff’s oath:

“I do solemnly swear that I will support the Constitution of the United States and the constitution of this state, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of a deputy sheriff of Wake County according to the best of my ability.”

Later, when Dean took a closer look at his badge, he realized that Martha’s blood was still embedded in the grooves of the engraving.


~*~

Sam was glad to be finishing up the last of the maintenance on the cabins. He was looking forward to being able to concentrate on training with Vera and learning how to use his abilities. Sam had confusing emotions where Jay was concerned. Sam liked him and was attracted to him, but he was afraid of Jay rejecting him and Dean's disapproval.

Sam was lost in his thoughts of the future when he first Felt something, like a pressure behind his ears. He shook his head and peered around the surrounding woods. All he saw was the typical lush summertime vegetation. Sam knew there was more to it than that, though, and quickly grounded and centered himself before strengthening his shield.

That is when he heard the screams. Sam checked for his cell phone before bolting after the anguished cries. He tried but couldn’t get a signal on his cell. Sam looked around desperately, trying to pinpoint where the screams were coming from; they weren’t stopping. Sam tensed in frustration. The only weapon he had with him was a hunting knife. Dean didn’t want him carrying guns until he had more control.

Sam jumped off the cabin's porch ready to dive into the underbrush to find the source of the screaming. Suddenly Katie Wyler's ghost appeared in front of him.

Her dirty blue dress hung off her thin shoulder as it always did, and she was wringing her hands, looking agonized. “Be careful, Sam. There are two of them.” Katie Wyler’s blue eyes seemed to glow with pain. “She’s my kin, please help her. Oh, be careful, there are two of them!” she shrieked before disappearing.

The light changed subtly, Sam noticed that the trees were no longer throwing such distinct shadows. He looked up and saw that it was getting cloudy; the leading edge of the storm was rolling in.

More screams. With a growl of frustration, Sam dashed into the underbrush toward the screams.

A demon smiled. The psychic Hunter had taken the bait.