Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Who made heaven and earth, The sea and all that is in them; Who keeps faith forever; Who executes justice for the oppressed; Who gives food to the hungry. The LORD sets the prisoners free. The LORD opens the eyes of the blind; The LORD raises up those who are bowed down; The LORD loves the righteous; The LORD protects the strangers; He supports the fatherless and the widow, But He thwarts the way of the wicked.
~Psalm 146: 6-9~
Inside Bobby Singer's house at Singer Salvage Yard, South Dakota
Summer 1991
Bobby Singer grumbled to himself as he grabbed two dirty mugs from the sink.
Rinsing them, he glanced up through his window when he heard shrieks of laughter coming from outside. Seeing the scene of young Dean and Sammy wrestling in the junkyard caused his lips to twitch upwards in a smile.
He ran a tanned hand through his hair nearly dislodging his hat in the process. Meandering to the coffee pot, Bobby let out an explosive sigh as he poured a generous portion of the sludgy liquid into the mugs.
Grabbing a bottle of scotch that was conveniently placed next to the pot; he poured a shot in each before capping the bottle and turning around.
Exiting the kitchen, he walked to the den, his eyes taking in the dusty room. Books were scattered half hazard around, some on the sofa, stacks on the floor, and a few open on his desk that sat by a window pane that took up the far wall.
Bookshelves lined the walls around the window.
A sofa was four feet from the desk that faced the door he exited from. An antique padded chair faced the sofa and a wooden coffee table was in the middle of both.
Finally, his eyes landed on a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair that stood pursuing his bookshelf. The man was of large stature, thick corded muscle ran across his shoulders and down his arms.
His strong body was loose for easy movement and angled toward the exit. The man's dark eyes glanced toward where Bobby knew Dean and Sammy were playing outside, every few seconds as the man continued to browse Bobby's book collection.
Clearing his throat to let the hunter know he was in the room, lest he is shot or become a pin cushion with the weapons likely hidden underneath John Winchester's coat, he walked over to the sofa and took a seat.
John turned around at the noise and came to sit in the chair. Gratefully taking the spiked coffee.
"Find what you were looking for John?" Bobby asked around the steaming mug.
"No." John sighed. "Guess I will have to keep looking." He said as he rubbed his hands down his faded jeans after setting down his coffee on the table. "Listen, Bobby, about my boys…." He started.
"You want to leave them here," Bobby stated, eyebrows furrowing as he frowned. John rubbed a weary hand down his face, then laced his fingers together.
"It's not safe. I have a lead on the thing that killed Mary. I don't want to put them in danger. I almost lost Sammy on the last hunt. I can't keep putting them in harm's way." John whispered in a hollow voice.
"The boys need their father. You can't keep doing this John. Let me get in contact with my contacts over in Britain, maybe they will have more information for you. I could…"
"No!" John nearly shouted. Breathing out through his nose, he continued in a quieter voice. "No. I don't want to get involved with witches Bobby.
Bad enough that they've somehow convinced you that they aren't demon spawn. I can't trust any information they give. No, I have to do this myself. It will only be for a couple of days." John pleaded in his gruff voice.
"They aren't demon spawn. They are born with their magic. How can you cast someone as a pariah for what they have no control over? How…" Bobby exclaimed angrily.
"Stop!" John cried with his hands raised as if to ward off the conversation. "Stop. I am not having this argument with you again. Just. Please. Just for a few days Bobby. Just until I see where this lead takes me. Then I will be back for the boys and out of your hair." Bobby groaned resignedly.
"Fine. But so help me, Winchester! This is the last time. Those boys need a father. Last time I checked that was you. So when you come back you better start acting like it. You hear me?!" Bobby exclaimed while piercing John with a heated glare as he took another sip of his coffee.
"Yes. Thank you, Bobby." John said with gratitude coloring his voice. His lips quirked in a smile.
"Hmph. Igit."
Outside Bobby Singer's House at Singer Salvage Yard, South Dakota
Two young boys were wrestling in the dirt. Laughter filled the air as feet scrambled for purchase as each tried to get the advantage over the other.
Finally freeing himself. Light brown hair crusted with sand glowed amber in the summer sun. Smiling, the youth let out a triumphant laugh as his older brother tried to get up with his weapons weighing him down.
At hearing the laugh, Dean Winchester glanced up at his younger brother and scowled.
"Think this is funny, do you?" He groused.
"Why yes, I do," Sam smirked. Dancing back as Dean made a swipe at his feet.
"I'll show you," Dean muttered as he finally got to his feet. Seeing this Samuel Winchester shot off in the direction of the trees surrounding the junkyard. Dean, hot on his heels.
Both boys laughed as they entered the dense cover of trees. Further and further they ran through the thicket. The further they went, the thicker what was now a forest, became.
The light that had at first filtered through the canopy got dimmer and dimmer the denser the forest became. Until finally it sputtered out.
Yet, both children were too caught up in their fun to realize they had traveled too far out into the forest's underbrush. Neither realized the danger they were now in. Nor did they feel the many golden amber eyes that watched them tumbling through the foliage.
Silently, they were followed, many padded feet keeping pace with their ignorant prey. Soon the two brothers came to a thinning of the trees where both stopped to catch their breath.
Their laughter finally dwindled as they seemed to finally realize how deep they had traveled and how silent the forest had become.
"Dean. I don't like this. Let's head back." Sammy pleaded as Dean's eyes darted around them looking for threats.
"Don't worry Sammy. I can protect you. I have the pistol filled with salt rounds and holy water." Dean soothed. "I even nicked this awesome hunting knife from Uncle Bobby's weapon stores. We're safe out here with me around. Anything that comes at us. We will be ready for them."
The brown hair youth exclaimed.
Samuel's lips twitched into a smile as he looked at his brother. Reassured for the moment as Dean stuck his nose up into the air haughtily. Smirking at him, Sammy was about reply when he saw golden eyes peering at him from behind his older brother.
A cold jolt of terror went down his spine as the animal got ready to pounce, saliva dripping from its maw as sharp teeth barred in his brother's direction. Running toward an oblivious Dean, he shouted.
"Look out!" Tackling Dean to the ground, they both heard the crash of an animal behind them. Turning they got their first glimpse of what hunted them. A grey wolf the size of a bear struggled to get up from the base of a tree.
Angry growls fell from its jaw as its dark dirt-smudged fur bristled.
Glancing up from the overgrown wolf, Sammy and Dean felt fear seize their young hearts as dozens of golden eyes stared out at them from the trees around them. Quickly getting to their feet, Dean grabbed Sam's hand.
"Run, Sammy! Run!" They ran.
Crashing through the underbrush, tree branches whipping against their skin, they ran. The sound of panting and guttural growls could be heard.
At some points, they felt the snapping of jaws at their backs as they jumped over fallen logs and weaved through thick roots that rose well above the ground. Tears gathered in their eyes as they ran.
No time to grab a weapon from Dean's belt to try to defend themselves.
Too many to even attempt it. For they would be overwhelmed. They ran. The trees became so densely populated they had to squeeze through their trunks to make it to the other side or risk losing a limb by going around them.
They were tiring. Hot breath that stank of rot fanned their necks. The backs of their shirts were torn as the wolves fought to gain purchase of their prey.
Their lungs burned. No breath to scream for help. Too deep for anyone to hear. "Keep going, Sammy! Don't stop!" Dean cried as his brother stumbled.
Nearly losing his leg as Dean grabbed his brother to haul him up. The wolf's jaws narrowly miss Sammy's calf.
"I don't know how much longer I can go on!" Sammy whimpered as their feet beat harshly against the forest floor.
"Don't you give up Sammy! You hear me! Don't you give up!" Tears fell down their filthy cheeks as they ran. Bursting through a thicket of trees they saw a ditch before them.
Not stopping, they jumped. Hands gripped tight to each other, they landed. Both slammed into a large pine, stunning them for a moment.
A scream brought Dean out of it, he lost his grip on his brother as a muddy brown wolf dragged Sammy toward the ditch by his shin.
"Sammy!"