Happy Friday everyone! Welcome to the conclusion of this weird tale. I had meant to post it yesterday to coincide with St. Patrick's Day but it just was not meant to be. I may write a bit of an epilogue, or maybe not. I am feeling a bit unsure about that still. I hope that you will enjoy this last chapter and I appreciate all of you who have decided to give this story a chance. Thank your for all the lovely reviews and thanks again for stopping by!
Cripes. This shit is getting old. Fast. Sam's head is pounding and he feels like he's got a load of bricks on his damn chest. Frick. His eyes remain shut but even so he can see. Green. Again with the green. It infiltrates his closed lids and helps to clear away any cobwebs that remain in his mind. Right. Leprechaun. Evil. Ugly. Son of a bitch. Dean. Up against the wall with its damn hands around his neck. Dean. He is in trouble. Again. What a surprise. Sam's eyes flutter open and he finds he needs to shield them from the intensity, the brilliance of that awful green glow.
Slowly he brings his gaze back into focus and curses the fact that he seems to be immobilized not by anything spectacular or remotely heavy. He is being kept in place by a damn foot? Well, that is the clincher. Here he is, a grown man, and he can't move because he is being held in place by the appendage of a bony, nasty, evil thing. Damn ridiculous.
Although he keeps his movements slow and slight, Sam can see the creature is way too intent on his brother to even take notice of him. He hopes he can use that to his advantage. And Dean. He just stands there like a statue. Frozen to the spot. Like a volunteer at some sort of tacky hypnotist show in Vegas. Sam just waits, maybe any time now he will cluck like a fricken chicken. Okay, that is not helping. His brother. He isn't being held in place, he isn't being physically forced to stay where he is. It's the stream of light. The light that emanates from the leprechaun is holding him. And it's official. Sam really, really hates the colour green.
There is a hum, like the purr of an airplane engine as it gets ready to roar to life. The bitch is talking. And the more she does, the louder the hum. And the stronger the light that flows out from within her becomes. And it is directly solely on Dean. The colours. It's like some sort of amateur light show from a has been rock band, one that tries to woo the audience with some shoddy special effects. The colours. They are just wrong. Unnatural.
Sam's eyes drift to another source of light. The pot. Sam can see it now burn a brilliant gold. And that fricken green. It shines like a beacon, it flows from that wench and snakes its way out into the room, with the concentration of colour pooling around the two figures that stand face to face at its core. Whatever is going to happen its gonna be soon.
Sam strains to hear the words that come out of her mouth and he can't say that he is too thrilled at what he is able to make out. The words. They are definitely, without a doubt, very very bad. He's gotta think of a way out. And fast.
"See Dean. I knew you could not resist. No one ever does. No one ever can. For all your bravado, your mind is still very much inferior and no match for mine. But your heart..."
Sam swallows hard as he watches the hand travel to his brother's chest and lay right above his heart.
Something isn't right. Dean can feel a slight pressure on his chest. It's a bit uncomfortable and although he still feels somewhat at peace, he has a real sense of foreboding about the position he finds himself in. He is trapped, powerless to move or even look away from the face before him. That face. The voice inside his head tells him it is bad. It is evil. The beauty he thought he saw mere seconds ago starts to crack and he begins to doubt more and more the serene feeling that fights to keep control of him. His gut. His instincts. They tell him this bitch has done this to him before.
"...your heart. So pure. So strong. So full of life. Very soon you will leave the burden of your frail, human body behind and your true essence, the one contained in your heart will shine as never before. Free from the confines that keep it from its true potential. It will find its place with the others. The blood of our creator, our father, that lives within the cauldron will sustain you long after your body turns to dust. You will live on...and so will we."
And there it is. The sinister smile is back. And all the warmth, all the peace of mind he felt just moments ago is gone and his self preservation skills kick in. This bitch is going to use his heart to keep them alive. He tells his body to move. His mind screams out to it, just to move one fraction. And all the while the smile stays on the things face. He can't believe he got lured in again somehow, that he fell for this shit. Again. Idiot.
No. Damn. Way. It's like a lightning bolt has hit him full force and shocked his system into the realization. The pot. Of course. It is the source of the power. It is helping to control Dean. If he can destroy it, or at least interrupt the power supply, then maybe he can snap his brother out of the damn control that has gripped him. And then the two brothers can kick some leprechaun ass and get the hell out of here. Sounds good. So all Sam has to do is destroy the pot, which will destroy the hearts, and the blood. Which will in turn destroy the power and ultimately destroy the bitch. Piece of cake right?
"It's time Dean. I told you, your brother will watch while I rip your heart out and you aren't going to do anything to stop me. And then, just for fun, I think I'm going to do the same thing to him."
Click goes his brain. Turned back on to full power the instant that thing spewed out those words. Dean will never understand it. You would think that all those evil sons of bitches out there, all the ghosts and spirits and demons and ghouls and various other shades of evil would learn. Then again, they probably don't talk to each other much. But, if they did, they would know. The worst thing to do, the very worst thing, is to threaten Sammy. Because if you do, no matter how strong you think you are, no matter what unearthly shit you try to pull over on him, you will get your ass kicked. No one and no thing can withstand the brutality of Dean Winchester when his brother's well being is at stake. And that one, idiotic comment has sealed your fate. It's the last nail in your coffin. And now it is his turn to smile. And the flash of annoyance he sees on the creatures face is just the icing on his leprechaun killing cake.
Sam sees the smile and his face forms into one of its own. Alright, Dean is back. But Sam needs to work fast because he thought his brother had broken the spell before and that didn't seem to work out so well. His spirit has been upped a level but he can tell his brother still can not move. And Sam is still being held in place. From his vantage point on the ground he can see the sneer that floats across the leprechaun's face and knows that once again his brother has managed to piss it off. Royally.
The bitch leans in closer, it's face transforms into its hideous self and Dean can feel its breath on his face. "Too late Dean." The clawed hand wastes no more time and Dean lets out an unexpected howl as the nails start to dig into his flesh. He fights and fights the invisible bonds that hold him there. He can not let this happen. He needs to save Sam. With all his strength he can feel his arm start to move. He sweats and groans and his body seems to creak under the pressure but little by little it happens. He slowly gains control of his arm and it comes to grip the wrist of the hand that is searing his skin and trying to take out his heart. This is so messed up.
It happens and Sam wastes no time. The creature leans in further to Dean and the weight on his chest lessens just enough for him to have a fighting chance to get free. He grabs the leg attached to that damn foot and yanks it viciously to the side. The leprechaun's balance is thrown off and as it fights to regain its footing Sam knows it is now or never for the two brothers.
"DEAN! THE POT! WE NEED TO TIP OVER THE POT!"
Without a word the two Winchesters flank one side of the glowing pot. The very hot, incredibly heavy gold laden cauldron of evilness. They look to each other and then to the creature in their midst. It screeches and screams and hisses as it begins to realize that the two men are about to snuff it out of existence.
And over it goes. Blood and hearts come tumbling out and float across the floor as if they were water and fish spilled out of an aquarium. The hearts flip and flop. They beat as if they are still alive and Dean has to fight the urge to spew the contents on his guts out onto the floor. He raises a hand to his chest. To the spot that now sports some nasty leprechaun claw marks. It could have been him. His heart could be splayed out on the floor as if it was nothing. Just a freakin battery inside some damn leprechaun remote control.
Dean's eyes travel to the creature. It is screaming. It is crying. It is dying. As the hearts dry up, as they no longer have blood to sustain them, they start to wither. The golden brilliance starts to fade until they turn to a charcoal black. And as each one of the hearts begins to die the leprechaun also begins to wither. And when only one heart remains Dean picks it up and stands above the rapidly disintegrating body of his enemy.
"Thanks for the dance. Bitch." And with that he squeezes his hand around the heart and it crumbles like dust through his fingers.
And so too does the bitch on the floor.
The End. Thank you for reading. I appreciate it. :)