Heroes-Revisited

By Ridley C. James, July 2006 re-edited in 2007
Beta & contributor: Tidia

Disclaimer: Nothing Supernatural belongs to me.
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Chapter 5/13
“An ordinary man is involved in action, the hero acts. An immense difference.” –Henry Miller

Even without Daryl’s help, John and Caleb would have easily been able to follow his frantic trail through the forest. It led straight to a creek bank with fragrant blooming honeysuckle bushes.

Reaves fingered one of the blossoms. “Honeysuckle. Just like we thought.”

Winchester nodded and then motioned to his son and Daryl. "You two stay here." John pointed to a cropping of shadowy trees. “Hide and do not come out until you hear either me or Caleb.” He fixed his gaze on Sam. "No matter what, Sam. Do you understand?"

"But Dad…"

"No buts." He handed him one of the walkie-talkies and a shotgun. "I need to know you're out of danger, and it's your job to get Daryl to safety if anything goes wrong."

Before Sam could object further Caleb stealthily approached them, his features grim. "It's the right place. I can sense the raw now. The mine is up ahead, just like Daryl said."

"How's the entrance?"

"Open." Caleb frowned, concentrating. "And unguarded."

"Which means he’s not concerned about company?"

"Or he's busy." Caleb glanced at Sam then shared a look with John. "We need to get in there, Johnny." There was no need to explain what he saw or ‘felt’ the beast doing to Dean.

Sam seemed to interpret his glance despite his attempt at coyness. The kid’s breath hitched and suddenly he didn’t seem to feel the need to argue with his father. "Go, Dad! Dean needs you."

John didn't have to be told twice. "Take point, Caleb. We move in together."

"I got it, Johnny." Caleb nodded to Sam who had put his arm around Daryl’s trembling shoulders. Reaves could easily picture Sam at the same age. "We'll be back with your brother, Runt."

John shook his head as Caleb dashed off. He glanced back at Sam and held up the other walkie-talkie. "Maintain radio silence, Sammy. Wait for me to contact you."

"Yes, sir." Sam watched his father go, and hoped the nightmare would be over soon.

It didn't take the two hunters long to go the short distance to the mine. The shaft was covered by overgrowth. Some broken planks had been placed to deter any exploration. Dirt-covered warnings cautioned poisonous air and unstable ground, but neither hunter heeded the sign.

The problem wasn't their zeal, or brashness, but rather their misinformation. As John was fond of saying: a hunter was only as good as their intel. And both hunters believed raw heads to be rather stupid, instinct driven and animalistic.

But a stupid creature, driven purely by instinct, didn’t lay snares or think about traps that would detain or perhaps kill those who might come looking for it. If that were true, deer and turkey hunters would have been in for a rude awakening.

The set up was quite brilliant, albeit crude. And perhaps if Caleb hadn’t been concentrating on Dean, and John hadn’t been in such a hurry to get to his son, one of them might have wondered about the ‘lack’ of security. The unhindered entrance was an illusion.

"Son of a bitch!" Caleb swore as he and John struggled to their feet, glaring up from the bottom of the pit they'd fallen into. The ground had seemed completely stable. Dirt and rocks tossed just so over rotten planks. "Since when do raws come equipped with a fucking brain?"

John groaned as he tried to put weight on his left leg. "Had to be some damn reason their head's so fucking big."

Caleb glared at him, but then his annoyed look became one of concern. "You alright?"

"I think my ankle's busted," John bit out.

Reaves bent down beside him. "Peachy."

John hissed when Reaves started to unlace his boot. "You?"

"Only thing hurting is my fucking pride. I don’t know why I didn’t know about this. . ." Caleb glanced around at the slick walls of the hole.

John shook his head. Neither of them had shown much common sense. "Of all the rookie moves..."

Caleb sighed. "I take it this was the pit Sam's premonition was warning about."

"You couldn't have figured that out before hand, Junior? You are a psychic." John growled.

The younger hunter started to reply, but winced instead, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes. A faint pain blossomed behind the front of his skull. "Goddamnit!" Caleb growled as he suddenly grabbed his head and bent over. "Now it comes on-line. Un…fucking…believable."

"What?" John asked as the younger man curled into himself, his forehead resting against the rock floor. "Caleb?"

John's voice sliced in and out like a dull, jagged blade, then silenced all together, drowned out by the roaring crash inside Caleb's head. Shards of images glistened in the young hunter's mind. Pictures started and then stopped in a dizzying strobe-light effect. Then the vision took complete hold, dragging Caleb into events that would unfold in the uncertain future.

As usual Caleb watched the scene from the monster's point of view. The damn raw was standing over Dean, blood already on its claw-like hands. The young hunter was blinking and backing away across the ground, trying to escape the beast's reach.

They weren't in the room Sam had described earlier, but rather deeper in the shaft-perhaps where the raw fed if the scattering of bones was any indication. Dean's wrists were still encased in some kind of metal, but he wasn't chained to a wall. The raw suddenly lashed out and kicked the boy. It then used one massive foot to clamp down on Dean's leg, effectively halting the teen’s futile attempts at escape.

Dean cried out, trying to free his trapped limb, but the raw moved with incredible strength, swiping out and landing a blow to Dean's head.

"No!" Dean shouted.

The raw swung its head, and Caleb’s perspective on the scene changed.

Sam was standing in another entranceway, a shotgun held up to his shoulder. "Dean!"

"Sammy?" Dean shook his head, and struggled weakly to push himself up. "Don't!"

Sam pulled the trigger and the raw stumbled, but stayed on its feet. Roaring, the beast leapt over Dean's prone form, and snatched Sam off his feet. Terrified brown eyes locked on the raw, although Reaves felt as if they were staring at him. Caleb wanted nothing more than to remove himself from the scene, knowing he was about to witness Sam Winchester's death.

It came quick. One horrific shake and Sam's head snapped back with a faint whimper and a sickening pop. The raw dropped the thirteen-year-old, his broken body landing askew in front of his brother. Dean's eyes locked with his little brother's open, unseeing ones, and he reached a shaking hand out to wipe the trail of blood that escaped Sam's nose and mouth.

Caleb groaned as the pain breached his senses, sending him tumbling into the present where John's steadying grip kept grounded him. “Shit.”

"Caleb? Damn it, answer me." John slid his hand to the back of the younger hunter’s neck. “Tell me this isn’t some side effect from a blow to the head?”

"No. Vision.” Caleb ground out. “Shit." He breathed, trying to get his emotions under control. The psychic lifted his head, took a shaky breath. “That wasn’t good.”

“What was it?” John let him go.

Reaves raked fingers through his black hair, squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. Lifting glassy eyes to meet his mentor's concerned gaze, he shuddered. "We've got to get out of here, Johnny. The boys are in trouble."

John removed his hand from the other hunter and desperately fumbled for the radio still clipped to his belt. Turning it on static filled the air until the call button was depressed. "Sammy?" No answer. "Sam? Answer me, damn it. Samuel!"

"He found another way in. Or he will." Caleb shakily made it to his feet, pushing the overwhelming need to be sick to the back of his mind. "We need to be there when he does."

John threw the walkie-talkie against the dirt prison wall. "I'm not going anywhere on this fucking leg."

Caleb glanced up again. "You think you could hold my weight?"

John shook his head, motioning to the lip of the pit, nearly fifteen feet or better above them. "You'd still come up short."

"Damn." Caleb paced, and then stopped suddenly. "There is another way."

John frowned, picking up on what the younger hunter was planning. "Last time you tried that it was with a dog. If I remember right, Atticus fell in love with you. You really want to risk it with a 250 pound raw?"

"I've been working on it with Mac." Reaves tried to explain, "I’ll just be distracting the raw head. An ECMC will confuse it until we can get out of here."

"A what?"

Reaves sighed. They didn’t have time for explanations. "An emotionally charged mental conflict." Caleb clenched his teeth when John stared at him in disbelief. "A psychic attack, John. Trust me."

"You're not telekinetic."

"This isn't physical."

Winchester didn't look convinced. "Don't you have to be closer? In the same room, even? Doesn't the victim have to be in a hypnotic state, or astral traveling?"

John had enough information to be annoying and cause Reaves to doubt himself. "Not necessarily." Caleb glanced away. "And if I have a medium, I can long-distance it. Project through that person, piggyback, sort of. Mac and I have done it." But his father had been prepared to be the conduit.

It took a second for John to realize what Reaves was implying. "You want to use my son as some kind of psychic conduit? No way! That's too dangerous."

"And facing a raw head is a walk in the park?" Caleb snapped. "I'm just going to give him a boost, you stubborn sonofabitch. Whether you like it or not, Sam has a gift, and we are stuck down here without any solutions. If we don’t do something he'll die."

"You don't know that for sure." John wanted to get some distance between him and the other hunter, but the pit was too small.

"Don’t make me describe how the raw killed Sammy in front of Dean. It will destroy you all."

"Damn you!" John grabbed the younger man by the shirt collar and shook him. "You know what this means. I didn't want him to know. . ."

"I know." Caleb lowered his voice. It was a direct violation of everything John had gone to extremes to protect his son from. "Believe me, I know. But we don't have a choice here."

John lowered his head, and released the other man. "So help me, Caleb, if this doesn't work…"

Caleb knew what the alternative was, Sam's death and probably Dean's too. It was worth the risk.

Caleb rubbed his hands together and took a deep breath. He was scared.

John leaned against one of the walls, looking as about as unglued as Caleb had ever witnessed. "What should I do?"

"Pray. And whatever happens don't touch me."

"Be careful. I don't want to have to explain anything to Mac." John warned.

"Right." Caleb closed his eyes. He hoped he would be the only one affected. He sent a quick plea to anyone who might be listening that he wouldn't short-circuit Sammy's hardwiring, or worse. "Here we go."
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John and Caleb had only been gone a few moments before Daryl started to fidget. It reminded Sam of Dean when he was cooped up too long, or nervous about a hunt. It also made him miss his brother desperately.

"Do you think Phillip is okay?" The little boy asked, bringing Sam from his musings.

"I hope so."

"The bad man took him away last night."

"I know." Sam sighed, remembering the other little boy was missing from his last dream.

"I'm sorry."

"Your brother told me that he would save him."

"If anyone can...Dean will."

"But he's hurt."

Sam looked down at the radio, wondering if his father was close to the mine now. "Dad and Caleb will get to them."

"What if they need our help?"

Sam worried about the same thing. He knew his father was the most skilled hunter, and Caleb had been trained by John, but something inside Sam screamed at him that he should not be sitting this one out.

It was his job to save his brother, before it was too late. He had a lot to make up for.

"Your daddy would be really mad if we followed him, huh?"

Sam looked at Daryl, who moments earlier had been terrified by the thought of facing the raw head again. "He wouldn't like it, that's for sure."

"There's another way in."

"What?" Sam raised his eyebrow. "Another way into the mine?"

Daryl nodded. "It's how the bad man brought your brother in."

Sam glanced at the radio again, and then to the little boy. Three against one odds were better than two, and if Sam could somehow sneak in then he could get to his brother while his father and Caleb took care of the raw. "Show me."

It hadn't taken long for Sam and Daryl to circle back around behind the old mine. Once there, Sam easily discovered the hidden entrance behind a covering of trees and smartly placed boulder. If one wasn't paying close attention it would be overlooked.

"I think you should stay here, Daryl."

"But I want to help." Daryl looked around the forest. "And I don't want to stay by myself."

Sam slid his teeth over his bottom lip as he looked from the boy to the dark entrance of the mine. A part of him knew Daryl would be in danger with either choice he made. The internal struggle gave him a small glimpse at what his father and Dean dealt with on a daily basis. Finally, he sighed. "Okay, but stay close and do exactly what I tell you, got it?"

Daryl nodded. "Wolf Cub's honor." The little boy held up his two-fingers in a salute, and Sam grinned, not exactly sure what a Wolf Cub was.

The shaft was dark and damp. It smelled of stagnant water, cold earth, and a stench Sam could only describe as rank death.

Daryl pressed closer to Sam, causing the older boy to stumble on the uneven ground. The young hunter cursed himself for not bringing a flashlight, and tried to tread more carefully.

He could just make out a flickering of light up ahead, a dancing shadow cast by a torch's glow. The thought of the torch brought back a flash of a scene from his first nightmare. Sam held out a hand to keep Daryl behind him and cast a suspicious eye to the ground, wary of their tenuous footing. In his dream he had fallen after entering the mine, and even though nothing unusual appeared his fear of taking an unwanted trip still plagued his mind. And something else nagged at him- the unwelcome feeling of déjà vu.

"Sam?" Daryl's whisper brought his gaze to the small boy. "Are you okay?"

Sam nodded and bent down in front of Daryl. "I need for you to do something for me."

"Sure."

It didn't make sense, but Sam's gut instinct was speaking. "I want you to go back the way we came in, and then around to the other entrance." Sam handed the boy the walkie-talkie. "Take this and call my dad when you're close to the front of the mine." Sam pointed to a button on the side of the hand-held radio. "Just click this once, don't say anything. He'll call you back."

"But…"

"No buts." Sam smiled slightly. He was using his father’s exact words from before. He only hoped Daryl followed orders better than he did. "I have a feeling that my dad and Caleb might be in trouble. They may need our help." He couldn't explain it, but that was true of a lot of things that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. For some reason, Sam knew something had gone wrong with the other two hunters.

"But what about our brothers?"

Sam gripped the little boy's shoulder. "I'll get them back. I promise." Sam nodded towards the faint light from the entrance barely visible to them from their position. "Now, go on."

Daryl pouted as he turned around and made his way back towards the exit. Sam stood watching until the blackness swallowed the boy from sight. The teen clutched the shotgun close to him and kept moving further into the passage his resolve to save his brother guiding his way.
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Dean clutched his arms to his chest and tried not to breathe too loudly or deeply. At the moment, his whole world was one big hurt.

He'd regained consciousness moments earlier to the eerie sounds of a knife being sharpened. A very large knife by the sounds of the metal surface touching the grinder. And since then, things had only gone down hill. His body and strength had betrayed him, offering no escape and no rescue by his father or Caleb had been accomplished.

At least Daryl had gotten away and he was no longer chained to the wall. But, one glance at his throbbing wrists told Dean the make-shift cuffs were still in place, secured tightly around his bloodied hands, a chain now binding them together. His head felt as if it weighed a ton, his blurred vision and the fact the room kept spinning were indications he had at least a slight concussion, at worst some hemorrhaging. And Caleb was always telling him his head was impervious.

A hysterical laugh almost burst forth at the thought, which was worrisome considering it really wasn’t that humorous. But the idea of bringing unwanted attention and anymore weird foreplay with the raw kept Dean in control.

He could still smell the thing on his clothes. It even overpowered the coppery twang of blood. The idea of having to endure anymore up close and personal time was enough to tempt him to give into his nausea.

However, soft whimpering in the corner drew his attention from his own peril as he caught sight of Phillip cowering against the far wall. The boy looked worse for wear, but at least he still had all of his appendages in place, and he was conscious. Dean's rage overcame his fear as he watched the raw move towards Phillip.

"I see you're still messing with half pints, Porky." Dean pushed himself up to a sitting position, despite his stomach's summersaults. "Was I too much for you?"

The monster stopped and snorted, coming closer to Dean, away from its intended victim. Dean blinked rapidly to clear his vision and tried to backpedal across the ground. Unfortunately, the raw head stopped him with a vicious kick to his already aching side, and then stepped down on his lower leg, effectively pinning him. Dean cried out in agony.

The hunter still struggled. The beast swiped out with one meaty paw, connecting with Dean's head with a brute force that had the young hunter seeing stars and hearing bells. He was amazed he didn't pass out, adrenaline the only logical reason for him to remain conscious through the blinding pain and sheer force of the blow.

For a moment, Dean thought he might have blacked out as the sound of his brother's voice floated to him through the red haze encompassing his over-taxed senses.

"NO!" Sam’s voice echoed in the cavern as he stepped from the shadows into the firelight. He'd come to the opening of the cavern in time to hear his brother cry out in pain. The raw head snapped up and snarled at the thirteen-year-old as he raised the shotgun to shoulder level.

"Sammy?" Dean looked around, his eyes having a hard time focusing on the blur he was certain was his little brother. "Don't," he warned just as Sam fired.

The youngest Winchester's marksmanship was dead on, but the blast of buckshot to the chest only infuriated the unfazed raw.

Dean watched helplessly as the thing leapt across him and snatched Sam off his feet. He was helpless to do anything. His injured body refused to respond to any command. It was every nightmare and fear he'd ever known coming to life in painful living color.
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It was painful for John to simply sit and watch as everything else spiraled out of his control. What in God's name had he been thinking when he'd agreed to Caleb's plan? Not only was he agreeing to risk his son, he was risking Mackland’s son.

The older hunter studied Reaves, tempted to bring him out of whatever the hell state he was in, when the radio squawked. At first John wasn't sure of what it was, seeing as he'd tossed the damn thing against one of the dirt walls, but his mind quickly picked up on the familiar noise and he hobbled to where it lay in the dirt. "Sammy?" he asked with a prayer.

There was a pause then a small, young voice replied, "It's Daryl."

John sighed. "Daryl, where's my son?"

"Uh...in the cave, Sir. Where are you?"

"We're in a mess, Daryl. Where are ?" John tried to take some of the gruffness out of his voice, but the pain in his ankle and the worry eating away at the tattered shreds of his patience wasn't helping matters.

"Right outside."

"The mine?"

"Affirmative," the little boy replied, confidently.

John sighed. "I need for you to listen to me real carefully…can you do that?"

"Ten-four."

Apparently, Daryl had a walkie-talkie of his own at home. "Okay." John looked to where Caleb sat, a frown now marring his young face. "I want you to come into the mine, but be very careful, Daryl. There's a large hole in the ground."

"Like a booty trap?"

John shook his head, thinking about how that sounded like something Dean would say, but with none of the innocence Daryl's voice conjured. "Yeah, son, a trap."

It wasn't long before Daryl's voice came through the radio again, but also floated down from above them. "Are you down there?"

John raised his head, and watched as the little boy's face came into view, just over the lip of the crevice. John dropped the radio to the ground. "That would be an affirmative."

"Sam said you might be in trouble."

"He was right."

"How you going to get out?"

"I was hoping you might be able to help with that. If I throw a rope up to you, is there anything up there that you could tie it to?"

Daryl stood up and looked around the mineshaft. It was empty except for scattered boards and a busted cart. "Not really."

"Damn it," John swore.

"But I could use a ladder."

"A ladder?" Caleb made a noise and John's eyes momentarily returned to him. The frown from before twisted into more of a grimace, and sweat beaded along the other hunter's brow. John forced his eyes upward again. "Daryl? You see a ladder?"

"Not from here, but it's not far, going into the bad man's house under the ground."

"Can you get the ladder, Daryl, without the bad man knowing?"

"I think so. It's big, but I could drag it."

"That's good, Daryl. Hurry as fast as you can, but be careful."

"Ten-four," Daryl said, still talking into the radio. "Over and out."

John took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Not only had he allowed Caleb to attempt a psychic rescue of his sons, he was now counting on a five-year-old commando to save his own ass. He was pretty sure he'd lost all control.
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