Paper
Tiger
By Ridley C. James, September 2007
Beta: Tidia
Disclaimer: Nothing
Supernatural
belongs to me sadly. If it did I’d leave things along.
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Chapter 9/11
"In each human heart
are a tiger, a pig, an ass and a nightingale. Diversity of character is
due to their unequal activity."
--Ambrose Bierce
A simultaneous breach of the building was decided upon after a sweep of
the perimeter and a short stake out showed no movement in or around the
area. John and his team took the side entrance to Griffin’s cabin as
Jim and the others stormed the front. Penetrate and neutralize was the
plan.
“Goddamnit!” John Winchester yelled as he stormed through the rooms one
by one. The hunters’ entrance had been anti-climactic and unsatisfying
to say the least. Infiltration of an empty building was always a sure
fire way to kill an adrenaline high, and it had cruelly dashed their
hopes. He turned to Harland and Silas. “Spread out and see what the
hell you can find.”
“What are they thinking?” Mackland queried softly, walking around the
room. Ames stopped at two straight back chairs in the center and let
his fingers trace over them. Ropes still dangled from the wooden slats
and the doctor knelt on the floor. He lifted the rough fibers when he
noticed blood stains smeared on them. “Where would they have gone? It
makes no sense to abandon shelter in this type of weather.”
“Unless they knew we were coming.” Bobby growled. “But how in the hell
would they have known?”
John moved to the fireplace where Jim was standing with a contemplative
expression. “Jim?”
“I was merely thinking they couldn’t have been gone long. The fire is
still warm and I smelled coffee when we came in.”
“Cigars, too,” Bobby added. “Somebody was smoking the good stuff.”
“Cubans.” Harland reentered the room carrying several objects. “Griffin
gets them from some colleague,” the blond hunter explained. “He always
has a stash of them closeby.”
“That tells us that someone was definitely here-but not who.”
“I’m guessing the boys were.” Harland held out the stuffed dinosaur and
a few storybooks. “These were tossed on one of the beds. Both looked to
have been slept in recently.”
“Caleb was here.” Mackland spoke up, his eyes searching out John. “This
is his blood.”
Winchester looked down at The Scholar, his dark features growing
grimmer. “How do you know, Mac? ‘Sensing’ things isn’t exactly your
area of expertise?”
Ames shook his head, continuing to run the rope through his fingers.
“This is a physical object with his blood. It works like any number of
weapons, articles of soiled clothing or blankets I’ve studied to find
other victims.”
John’s frown deepened. “You saw Caleb?”
Mac hesitated. “Not exactly.” Ames rubbed his forehead as he slowly
stood. “My abilities still aren’t working like they normally do, but
there’s an impression.” He gripped the rope tighter. “He’s been here
and he’s still nearby.”
“Are the boys with him?” John asked, stepping closer to the doctor. He
tried to hide the desperation in his voice, but the look his friend
gave him spoke to his success. “Did you get any feeling about them?”
“I’m sorry, Johnathan. It doesn’t work like that. I pick up sensations
mostly.” Mackland sighed wearily. “Cold. Exhaustion.” He met John’s
gaze again. “Fear. I could try with the stuffed toy and the books
Harland found, but I’m guessing it will be the same thing.”
“Damnit!” Winchester raked a hand over his beard. “What the fuck are we
going to do now?”
They all turned as Silas entered the cabin, shaking snow from his hair.
“I found some ATVs out back, but none of them look to have been used
recently. They must have headed out on foot because the terrain from
here up is pretty treacherous.”
Mackland raised a brow. “Another foolhardy move?”
“Or so they would have us think.” The Guardian stepped forward his gaze
locked on Ames. “Can you at least use the rope to track them, Mackland?
Sort of like a divining rod pointing us in the right direction?”
The doctor sighed. “Possibly. I’ve found burial and drop sites that way
before.”
“You better hope this is one of those cases, Doc.” Silas interrupted.
“With the way that snow is coming down and the number of trails leading
from here, even with daylight on our side a search could easily turn
into a ‘needle in the haystack’.”
“It will work.” Jim squeezed Mackland’s shoulder, gave one final look
to the cabin and then started for the door. “Let’s head out, boys.”
John cleared his throat when Mackland remained frozen in place, his
eyes locked on his hands. “Caleb’s a trained soldier.” Winchester
glanced to the rope curled around the doctor’s fist. “He can handle
himself. And take care of the boys.” He lowered his voice when his
friend didn’t react. “It’s not a lot of blood, Mac.”
Ames looked up, as unsettled as John had seen him. “He may be a soldier
in your war, but he’s my eighteen-year-old son, John,” he hissed. “Any
spilled blood is too damn much in my book.”
Winchester nodded. Whether Mackland believed him or not, he
understood-felt the same way. “My sons are out there too. And we’re
going to get them all back in one piece and home before Christmas.”
After a moment Ames’s mustache twitched. “Now everybody’s a goddamn
psychic.”
John snorted. “Let’s just hope Bobby doesn’t get any active abilities
or Sawyer’s in big trouble. I get a feeling Sawyer doesn't like him
much.”
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It didn’t take Caleb long to realize they were in big trouble. He was
having a hard time ignoring the cold bite of the wind and the wet
flakes penetrating his thin layers of clothing. He stopped feeling his
fingers not long after leaving the cabin. His feet sank in the snow
with each step, and he had to concentrate to keep from falling.
Although he could feel Sam trembling against him, he hoped the kid was
at least absorbing some warmth from their close proximity. Dean was
fairing much worse.
Even with Caleb pulling him along in his footsteps, the kid was
stumbling and gasping for breath. Griffin had used the ‘whammy’ on
Dean, but the ten-year-old’s body wasn’t fooled. Dean might not be
feeling the effects of the sickness plaguing him, but he was suffering
the side effects just the same. They wouldn’t last much longer. When
Dean started to cough, Caleb couldn’t suffer in silence any longer.
“How much further?” Reaves demanded, drawing up short and readjusting
Sam on his hip. The five-year-old kept his face buried against Caleb,
hiding as best he could from the wind and the snow. Dean leaned against
his leg to keep from falling over as more coughs wracked his weakened
body. “We’ve been walking for almost an hour.” Caleb wasn’t sure it had
actually been that long but under the circumstances the estimation felt
more than justified. “The boys can’t take much more of this.”
Griffin and Mathews paused. They were in the lead, with Sid and Mike
bringing up the rear. Caleb learned by listening to their conversation
that Louis and the mysterious others working for Team Griffin had
returned to the town to await further instruction. He assumed Griffin
wanted as few witnesses as possible to his ‘actual’ plan. “The human
body is an amazing machine. It can withstand grueling tasks.”
Caleb relished the heat that flared through his body at Griffin’s
comment. “Says the bastard who’s wearing a hooded down parka, gloves
and snow boots; looking as if he’s just blown in from a ski slope at
Aspen.”
“Anger is an excellent motivator.” Porter replied, no hint of shame in
his voice. “Use it to fuel you this last little stretch.”
“The only motivation I need is seeing John take you apart.”
Griffin laughed and marched back to the younger psychic. “You have such
faith in The Knight. A Knight who was chosen because Daniel Elkins went
insane and no one else was prepared to fill the role.” Porter's nose
flared. “Unless of course you count Bobby Singer, who actually declined
to be considered because of some misguided loyalty to Elkins and the
fact he has the maturity level of young Samuel.”
“John Winchester is a hero.”
“Yeah!” Sam lifted his head long enough to glare at Porter. “Don’t talk
about my daddy.”
“Griffin, we’re wasting time.” Mathews pointed out, gesturing to Dean.
“The children need to be out of the weather.”
Dean accentuated the point by starting to cough again. He dropped the
blanket he was holding and sank to his knees in the snow.
Caleb quickly reacted, sitting Sam down and kneeling beside the other
child. “Deuce?”
Dean lifted his head, his eyes watering from the cold wind and the
strain. “I’m sorry…Caleb I can’t walk anymore.”
“I can walk now.” Sam offered, his hand going to his brother’s head.
“Caleb can carry you.”
“I’ll carry him.” Mathews stepped forward, looking down at Dean. “Mike
can carry Sam.”
The five-year-old clung closer to Reaves. “No. I’ll walk.”
Caleb carefully pulled Dean to his feet, steadying him with a firm
grip. He glared up at Mathews. “Don’t do us any fucking favors. I’ll
take care of both of them.” He looked back at the hired thugs,
reclining against a tree, watching the scene with a sense of boredom.
“I wouldn’t let those pieces of shit carry our fucking gear.”
“We’ll be the ones toting your frozen corpse off this mountain,
Reaves,” Sid called out, having heard the psychic’s declaration.
Caleb ignored him, locking gazes with Dean instead. “Can you manage a
piggy-back carry, Deuce?”
The kid nodded, taking a wheezing breath. “Think so.”
“At least take this.” Mathews had taken his own parka off, and held it
out to Caleb. “Don’t let pride keep you from doing what’s best for
them.”
Reaves jerked the jacket from Jarrett and knelt in front of Dean again.
“Put this on, Dean.”
The boy shook his head, shoving the jacket away. “But Sammy…”
“Has my jacket and has been sponging off my body heat for the last
hour.” Caleb looked at the youngest Winchester. “And he’s got that
Mercury Mojo going on.” He winked at Sam. “Ain’t that right, Runt?”
Sam nodded. “I’m not sick neither.”
Reaves swallowed thickly. He didn’t call Sam 'Tiny Einstein' for
nothing. Caleb looked at Dean again. “You’re wearing it, Dean. That’s
an order."
Dean allowed Caleb to help him into the jacket. “Whatever,” he muttered
when Reaves bent closer to zip the coat.
Caleb’s gold gaze rose in surprise, and he felt another twinge of hope
at the typical smart-mouthed reply. He pulled the hood up over Dean’s
head and laid a hand briefly against the boy’s flushed face. “That’s
‘whatever, Sir’ to you,
Private.”
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“This isn’t some military march on an enemy encampment.” Harland Sawyer
grumbled under his breath as he and Silas trudged through the snow,
trailing behind The Triad and Singer. “I can’t believe he ordered us to
bring up their ‘sixes’ like a couple of privates. “
Fox cast him a disbelieving glance. “That is exactly what this is,
Harland. Whoever took those boys is serious. John is right to be
cautious and to follow protocol.”
“Don’t tell me you’re buying into the Winchester fan club, Si? The man
has no right…”
“Not that again.” Fox shook his head, glancing towards the men in front
of them to make sure they were out of earshot. “How many times are you
going to flail that dead horse? I don’t care for Winchester either, but
what’s done is done. Jim Murphy made his decision years ago.”
“Time doesn’t change that it was the wrong one.”
“I understand that but there are lives at stake. Our first priority is
to save people. What if Joshua was missing?”
“Come on, Si.” Harland rolled his eyes. “Do you honestly think The
Guardian would be hiking through a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere
if my son were missing? Hell,
he just gave Joshua his ring last month. I don’t think he’d go out of
his way to recover him from a group of rebels.”
Silas frowned. “Rebels?”
Harland exhaled heavily. “Rebels…lunatics, what’s the difference?”
“The difference is I’ve heard you use that term before.” Fox stopped
and narrowed his gaze. “The last time we hunted with Fisher and Ian.
You all were whispering about a rebellion-talking about some sort of
shake-up.”
“I was blowing off steam.”
“I hope so.” Silas glanced towards The Triad again. “Because I would
hate to think you would ever be involved with a plan that would target
innocent children despite its goal.”
Harland smiled. “You know me. I love kids.”
Fox licked his lips nervously. “Right. You’re practically Ward Fucking
Cleaver.” He turned to start back up the trail when Sawyer reached out
and stopped him.
“But just so we’re clear on this, Silas, there’s nothing innocent about
Ames’s kid.”
Fox pulled away. “And just so you know, Harland, it was exactly that
kind of thinking that kept Joshua from getting his ring. Make sure it
doesn’t get yours taken away.”
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“We could at least build a fire.” As Griffin promised they reached the
cave relatively quickly. Jarrett looked towards the mouth of their
hiding place where he could see Caleb crouched with both boys. Despite
being out of the wind and the falling snow, the temperatures were still
freezing. He’d witnessed Dean’s decline the last leg of the trip.
Reaves’s brave front was beginning to crumble also, exhaustion and
exposure wearing on him. “The Winchester child is worse.”
Griffin glanced up from the tin cup he was filling with coffee from a
thermos he’d retrieved from his pack. “And why don’t we just call The
Triad and give away our location while we’re at it, Jarrett?”
“You’re not concerned with alerting The Triad, you’re doling out more
punishment.”
Porter rolled his eyes. “If I wanted to punish them I’d have tied them
up outside.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t. Perhaps even used them as bait in some type
of snare?”
“So now you’re listening to the boy?”
“That boy is not what I imagined.” Mathews had fought it, but watching
Caleb Reaves protect and care for the Winchesters over their time
together had worn away at his preconceived notions. “I’m not sure my
own boys would have acted as honorably.”
“Honorable? Perhaps you should take your coat back from the child. I
think you’re suffering hypothermic confusion.”
“He has the qualities of a Knight, Griffin. He reminds me of Maxim.
Julian would have approved. Even you can’t deny that.”
“Yes. Of course he’s brave and valiant with the added bonus of being
part demon.”
“You don’t know that for sure. No one does. Who is to say what a
possessed human can pass to its offspring? Even those we’ve encountered
that have been tainted by demon blood aren’t necessarily turned evil by
it.”
“But they have unusual and powerful abilities.”
“And you don’t? Elijah doesn’t?” Mathews shook his head. “Does that
mean that somewhere throughout your lineage and mine there was
something or someone supernatural in the mix?”
“Not all paranormal abilities are tainted. The brain is an amazing and
complex organ capable of things man has not even begun to uncover.”
“That is exactly my point. How can you be so certain that Caleb’s
abilities are not as much a gift as yours or my son’s? Perhaps he was
destined to be in The Brotherhood. Not all hunters have been born into
this calling as you are well aware.”
“And perhaps he was destined to destroy it!” Griffin’s gaze darkened.
“Your son’s abilities are not even in the same league with Reaves’s,
and he hasn’t even discovered how to use them to their full strength
yet.”
“So you want to stop him before he does? My God, Griffin, you are planning on killing him?”
“No.” Porter denied. "At this very moment, James is making his way up
this mountain, risking his own welfare to ensure the safety of three
boys he has no blood bond to. He’s The Guardian-he should know better.”
“So, you’re doing this to put Jim in his place? Is that what you
wanted?” Mathews lowered his voice. “Or are you planning on doing away
with him all together, Griffin?”
Porter said nothing.
“Answer me, goddamnit! I deserve to know the truth. Are you planning to
kill Jim Murphy?”
“Griffin’s going to kill Pastor Jim?”
Sam Winchester’s frightened voice carried through the cave and Jarrett
heard Caleb shushing the boy.
Matthews continued to hold Porter’s unwavering gaze. He took a deep
breath, stood straighter. “Not if I can help it.”
“What do you think you’re going to do, Jarrett?”
“You’re the psychic, Griffin. Read my mind.”
Jarrett didn’t give the scientist time to reply before turning and
making his way towards their captives. He knelt in front of Caleb.
Sid had cruelly tied the teen’s hands and feet, despite the opportunity
for escape. Sam and Dean were huddled next to him both sharing the coat
Mathews had sacrificed. The youngest Winchester glared at him, but Dean
seemed too out of it to acknowledge his presence. “You were right. I
was a damn fool.”
“First the coat and now a confession.” Reaves’s voice broke slightly,
his body betraying him and shaking from the involuntary shivering. “You
ever heard the expression ‘too little-too late’?”
“Remember what I said about that pride, Caleb.”
Reaves snorted. “So you’re sorry. That’s not going to keep us from
freezing to death or Dean from …” Caleb clamped his mouth together and
looked away from Mathews.
“I’m not offering an apology. I’m getting you and the boys out of here.”
“We’re going home?” Sam asked, hopefully. “We’re going to save Dean and
Pastor Jim?”
Caleb flicked his gaze to Griffin who was watching them, but hadn’t
moved closer. “But Griffin…”
“Has done enough damage.”
Reaves frowned. “He won’t let us walk away.”
Mathews cast a quick glance over his shoulder and then pulled a knife
from his boot. “I wasn’t planning on asking his permission.”
He sliced the ropes binding Caleb’s feet and then freed his hands. The
teen didn’t move for a moment, his gaze still focused over Jarrett’s
shoulder. “I don’t think you realize what you’re doing.”
Jarrett squeezed his shoulder, waited for Reaves to look at him. He
offered a faint smile. “Yes, I do.” He glanced to Dean. “For the first
time in a long while, I know exactly where I stand.”
“But…”
“Take care of the boys.” Mathews lowered his voice. “I’ll take care of
the rest.”
Caleb stiffly made it to his shaky knees. He picked up Dean, tucked the
down jacket around him and grabbed Sam’s hand. “Come on, Runt, we’re
getting out of here.”
Sam stood and followed Caleb’s lead.
“Jarrett?”
Mathews ignored Griffin’s voice, pushing Caleb on in front of him. He
didn’t look back.
“What’s going on?” Sid asked. He had been standing watch in the small
grove of trees off to their right. “I thought we were holing up here?”
“Plans have changed.” Mathews jutted his chin towards the trail where
he knew Mike was standing sentry. “You and your associate’s services
are no longer needed. You’ll receive your payment in the mail.”
“That’s not what we agreed upon.” Sid glanced towards the cave. “What
about the weapons?”
“What weapons?”
“The magical ones.”
“So Griffin told you about that, did he?”
“I heard you two talking and called him on it.”
Now everything was making sense. Mathews motioned for Caleb to keep
moving as he took the long steps that would bring him face to face with
the hired henchman. “You’re a bigger fool than I am, Sid. You heard
what he wanted you to hear. Griffin’s really good at that.” Porter had
been dangling a carrot in front of Sid, to what means Jarrett didn’t
even want to fathom.
“He and I made a deal.”
“Griffin is also good at ignoring the finer points of those.” Mathews
turned to follow after the boys; more certain than ever he was doing
the right thing.
The crack of the gun exploded in the quiet forest, violating the
deceptive peacefulness.
Sam yelped and Dean jerked in Caleb’s arms as the young hunter whirled
around at the sound of the shot. Reaves turned in time to see Mathews
stagger slightly and then drop boneless to the ground. “Shit,” he
gasped, stumbling back. Caleb cupped Sam’s head, drawing him closer to
his side, shielding him from the gory sight as Sid expertly swung his
weapon to cover them.
“Your turn, freak.”
“Caleb!”
“Jarrett!"
The voices of Jim Murphy and Griffin Porter rang out around him along
with another round of gunfire. Caleb dropped to the ground taking Dean
and Sam with him. He folded his body tightly over the two boys and
anticipated the fiery pain of a bullet, praying his last act would at
least offer some type of shield to the Winchesters.
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An ominous sound of gunfire had propelled Jim Murphy the last few feet
of his journey. The Guardian crested the top of the ridge to find a
nightmarish scene unfolding. Caleb was standing in the falling snow
holding Dean in his arms, Sam at his side. They were out in the open,
defenseless and in the target of another man Jim didn’t recognize. In
fact, all Murphy saw was the gun trained on the boys-his boys.
Even as he brought his rifle up and shouted Caleb’s name, he knew he
would never be quick enough. The enemy had already drawn a bead, finger
tightening on his trigger. Jim was about to watch another person he
loved die and was powerless to stop it.
Then from out of nowhere Griffin Porter’s voice rang out along with the
sharp retort of a handgun. Caleb went down, taking the Winchesters with
him. Jim’s heart momentarily stopped. He blinked, and watched the enemy
fall also, a swath of red spreading across the unknown man’s chest-a
stunned expression registering on his face.
Jim’s feet started forward before his brain could even issue the
command. He spared a glance to the dead man. Somewhere in the back of
his mind Murphy registered the fact the assailant was dressed similarly
to the one John had silently taken out on the trail below them. Another
body was face down between the kidnapper and the boys. Blood was
everywhere. Jim prayed none of it was from one of his own.
“Boys?” He knelt in the snow, rested his rifle in the crook of one arm.
His hand went to the Caleb’s shoulder. “Are you all okay?”
“Thank God you showed when you did, James.” Griffin’s quiet voice
broke. “The bastard shot Jarrett. He's dead, James. Jarrett Matthews is
dead.”
“Jim?” John Winchester called out. He was only moments behind the
pastor, having left the others to flank the area. He had taken care of
the man they’d encountered on the trail, but had missed the climax.
Mackland had rejoined him only a few steps behind. John held his own
weapon at the ready, covering Porter whose gun now dangled loosely in
his grasp.
Jim stayed focused on the boys, knowing The Knight would cover them.
“Boys?” He tried again.
“Jim.” Caleb uncurled his body and sank back on his haunches. Dean was
still held protectively against his chest, and Sam was tucked behind
him. “Griffin…in on it.”
“What?” Jim was still trying to convince himself the boys were not
fatally injured. Dean wasn’t moving, Sam was covered in snow,
shivering, but blinking owlishly up at him. “I…”
“He wants to kill you, Jim,” Caleb said emphatically. His glassy gaze
moved from Murphy to the tall black man standing behind him. “He did this.”
“James, I just saved the
boys…He’s ill. Suffering from hypothermia and in shock.”
“Caleb?” John moved closer to them, gripping his own weapon tighter as
he let his gaze go to his children. Mackland echoed the same movement.
“Johnny…” Caleb breathed, shaking his head. “Dean’s sick. Real sick. We
need to help him. But I swear I’m not lying.”
Jim clasped a hand around the boy’s neck, could feel the fierce
shivering wracking his body. He shot a quick glance to John and then
looked at Caleb. “No one thinks you’re lying, my boy.”
Murphy turned his gaze to Griffin, Duran’s warning from his deceased
mentor Julian ringing in his ears. ‘Et tu Brute’. Jim looked to the
dead body of Jarrett Mathews and then to his old friend. Hunters had
been a part of this scheme-his own men. “Put your gun down, Griffin.”
“But James…”
“Do as he says, Porter!” John snarled, and pointed at The Scholar to go
and help the boys.
Mackland made his way closer to the group, his wary gaze taking in the
Mexican standoff situation.
Bobby, Harland and Silas appeared with guns drawn to back up John.
“Stay where you are, Mackland, Bobby,” Jim ordered, standing and
placing himself between Griffin, Caleb and the Winchesters. Nerves were
spread too thin, worry making the situation beyond explosive. John
would easily react to the stress; eliminate the source of the threat.
As much as Jim might agree with The Knight on a personal level, he had
the responsibility of resolving things as The Guardian. “Griffin. No
one else need die today.”
Porter looked to the fallen form of Jarrett Mathews, hesitated, and
then glanced to Murphy. He lowered his gun and John took it from him.
“I didn’t know the bastard would kill Jarrett.”
“No. You just wanted him to hurt Dean…to kill me!” Caleb snapped,
trying to make his way to his feet. “Just so you could get to Jim.”
“I…” Porter started, but Jim shook his head, cutting off anything the
man was going to say.
The Guardian looked at the bodies and then to Harland and Silas. “I
want this situation neutralized. Take Mathews’s body back to Griffin’s
cabin. Erase any trace of what took place here.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I will escort Griffin myself.”
The Knight’s gaze went to Caleb, his boys and then to Jim. “Maybe I
should…”
“You should be with your sons.” Jim’s tone left no room for
disagreement. “Besides, my old friend and I have matters to discuss.”
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Mackland wasted no time in making his way to his son’s side as soon as
the situation was under control. “Caleb!” He rested a hand on the
teen’s head, brushing the cold, wet hair from his face. The boy’s skin
was like ice. He noticed Sam shivering beside the teen. “Samuel? Are
you okay?” The five-year-old nodded solemnly. “Dean?” Mackland pulled
off his gloves, laying his fingers on the unresponsive child’s neck. He
let out a quick breath as he found a pulse. “Thank God.”
“Dad.” Caleb sluggishly turned to his father and then glanced down to
Dean. “Deuce’s sick.”
“Okay, Son." There were numerous cuts and bruises littering Caleb’s
face as well as a nasty gash on his forehead. He and Sam were both
shaking and Mackland felt a surge of anger and murderous rage threaten
to overwhelm him. It was rare to feel thwarted by his own emotions and
the doctor had to remind himself he would do no one any good if he
couldn’t remain in control. “I’m going to take care of him.”
The teen pulled away from his father’s ministrations, clutching the
sleeping child in his arms tighter to him. “No…you don’t know. It was a
cold… but worse. And his hand’s burned and…”
“And now he won’t wake up,” Sam added when Caleb faltered. The youngest
Winchester shook his brother's shoulder with no result. “Fix him, Mac,”
he demanded for both of them.
“I will, Samuel. Trust me.”
Bobby Singer dropped to his knees by Mackland, stripped off his jacket
and grabbed a reluctant Sam. He pulled him out of the doctor’s way,
wrapped the boy in the coat and zipped it. “They’re fucking freezing.”
Mackland spared him a glance, which spoke volumes about the unnecessary
assessment before removing his own coat and draping it over Caleb. He
hadn’t missed the way his son was slightly slurring his words or the
glassy, dazed expression on his face. All of the boys were suffering
from exposure. “We need to get them out of this storm.”
“Mac? How’s Dean?” John kneeled in the snow, his hands resting on his
eldest’s pale cheek.
“I’m not sure yet.” Mackland glanced to John and then to Dean again.
The ten-year-old’s lips were thinned and tinged blue. Caleb said Dean
had started out with a cold. John had mentioned the boys being sick
earlier, which could mean Dean might have anything from a bad case of
bronchitis to pneumonia. He took the child’s pulse, and then with a
frown laid his ear against the little boy’s chest. “His respiration is
compromised.” He met Caleb’s worried gaze. “Son, let me take Dean.”
Caleb looked from his father to his mentor and shook his head. A hint
of panic surged in the young hunter’s gold eyes. “I’m sorry…I tried to
take care of them.”
“Hey, take it easy.” John shot the doctor a concerned look, moved his
hand to the teen’s neck and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You did good.
We’ll take it from here, kiddo.”
Mackland continued his cursory assessment, torn between the idea of
having Bobby build a fire and the fact that providing some temporary
warmth would do little to ease Dean’s ills. They had been prepared for
war wounds not a childhood illness.
“I promised him you’d come,” Caleb continued on, watching his father
check Dean over.
John nodded. “We got him now.” Winchester managed to pry Dean from the
teen’s grasp and passed him to Mackland. “You can stand down.”
John’s words did the trick and Caleb let the child go. His gaze
momentarily flickered to his father. “I’m sorry…”The teen’s eyes rolled
back in his head and he would have slumped to the ground if John hadn’t
seen the collapse coming.
“Caleb!” Sam cried and tried to wriggle out of Bobby’s strong grasp.
“Easy there, tiger. Your daddy and Mac got this covered."
“Damn it!” Ames growled. He could not divide his attention between Dean
and Caleb. Dean was obviously in need of immediate care. “Johnathan,
keep him warm.” He nodded to Caleb. Ames was not feelin as competent as
Bobby’s assurances conveyed. Mackland stood, hefting Dean up with him.
Field triage was not going to be enough for the situation at hand. “We
have to go now!”
Winchester pulled one of Caleb’s arms across his shoulder and struggled
to get the kid on his feet. “Bobby, use the ranger’s frequency. Tell
them to have an ambulance waiting for us at the trailhead. We can use
the ATVs Silas found at Griffin’s cabin to cut down on the time.”
“It’s still going to take too damn long, Johnathan,” Mackland bit out,
feeling the weight of the unresponsive child against his chest and the
heaviness of his own son’s fate on his shoulders. “This should not be
happening.”
“But it is.” John turned his fiery gaze to where Griffin Porter stood,
his hands now tied in front of him. “And we know exactly who to blame
for it.” John looked at his pallid son. “We're going to make it through
this just to spite him."
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