Title: Young Blood
Disclaimer: The characters used are not owned by me. They are owned by the CW and its master creator Eric Kripke.
Characters: John, PJim, Bobby, Sam, LilDean
Warnings: Language, violence, more plot twists
Feedback: Yes please!!
Wow, I can't believe it's been a year since I've updated! My hugest apologies. I'm blaming the new niece, who was born a few weeks after the last update and has taken up my time ever since. Seriously, I haven't even slept for the past three days more than four or five hours. At least I got to write more, right?
Hope you're all still enjoying the story :) Thanks for all the reviews, alerts, and favorites!! Hi to all you new folk! And eveyone that's been hanging in there, thank you.
Chapter Twenty – Five
Dean moved as fast as his little legs could move him. In his mind, he knew that he shouldn't be running off, alone and into the woods. His Daddy was going to be so mad at him!
But, he just had to keep moving forward. He just had to.
Dean was getting close. He didn't know what it was that he was getting to, but he could feel that he was getting there. He was feeling happier, or something like it. He was finally getting to where he needed to be and he was making good time.
His feet slapped against the ground, kicking dead leaves and small twigs away from his path. He didn't even notice them. He didn't notice anything.
He was breathing heavy and his arms were flaying as he made his way through the forest, dodging trees and following a path only he could see.
John Winchester hated the damn woods. It seemed like every crap ass thing ever was either living in the woods or damn near to them. Hell, Sammy probably had some theory about crap like that but all John wanted now was to be miles away from these particular woods, both his sons in tow, hopefully at their right size and mentalities.
Goddamn dog creature leaping at them. Probably more than one. Probably chasing his kids. Wanting to bit them. And Dean was now small enough to fit nicely into that damn thing's mouth.
He was going to look into get trackers implanted into his sons, damnit.
"Oh, dear," Jim said as the neared the cave's entrance.
Not the kind of thing that you want to be hearing before you go into a potentially inhabited and dangerous encasement.
"What?" he turned, glaring in Murphy's direction, but it was clear what had caught he pastor's eye.
Bobby knelt down by the boulder, frowning at the dark encryptions on it.
"Can make any heads or tails on it, Singer?"
"Some," Bobby's voice was sounding confident, and that troubled John.
"Not liking what I see. Think it's Arabic, old stuff though. Maybe protection?"
"Not likely," Jim said, his voice grave.
Both Hunters turned towards their friend. Unlike John and Bobby, Jim hadn't moved any closer to look at the new development.
"Dark magic, Jonathan. That there is written in blood." Jim's eyes left them and instead focused past them. With his gun, he pointed the other hunters towards his other discovery. "And those there are yarrow flowers. Summoning flowers."
He was so close! Dean was getting excited now. He knew for sure that he was going to get his answers and everything was going to be great real soon.
He just needed to find the old cabin and head inside.
It had been hours since he had been at Pastor Jim's, and it was starting to get dark and cold, but Dean wasn't openly aware of this fact. He'd long forgotten that he had been out there with Sammy, and the fact that he wasn't supposed to be seven years old right now or running around alone was a foggy memory that would soon slip away as well.
All Dean was sure of was that he was getting pretty close to the cabin, and he'd only ever remembered feeling this excited last summer when Daddy had let him shot out of his Wesson. And more recently back at the arcade.
The Hunters moved through the cave slowly. John was taking point again. Behind him, Bobby and Jim were shinning their flashlights. John hadn't come that prepared this time. In fact, he wasn't prepared for anything at the moment.
The shotgun in his hands had actual shells in them. Jim's gun had blessed rounds, as did most of the holy man's weapons, and John wasn't even sure what Bobby's rifle was loaded with. Might be the new salt laced packs the man was trying or some of those old iron rounds that he Caleb had recently done for Singer.
Either way, what really troubled John was the fact that he had no idea what the hell they were after. They'd been lucky to get that over grown mutt out of their way, but in a cave with something summoned, John was trying desperately to not over think how unprepared they were.
He really just wanted his boys back with him.
Sam sat up, gasping for air as his eyes began to adjust to the dark. He didn't know where he was or what he was doing there, but he was pretty sure that he wasn't supposed to be there.
He brought a hand up to his head, feeling the constant thumping inside of it. He wondered if he had been struck or something.
Then he remembered.
Oh, God. Dean!
Sam tried to get up, but a blinding heat sprung up his left leg. Pain, intense pain. Probably broken.