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flawedamythystTitle: Extraterrestrial: Part Twenty-Eight
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 2,785 words
A/N: Okay, so, I really don't like this chapter. If I had the time, I'd delete the whole thing and spend a few days planning it out better in my head, but I don't, so you get this. Maybe when I edit the whole thing I'll be able to make it work better.
Previous Parts: The Road So Far.
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four,Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty-One, Part Twenty-Two, Part Twenty-Three, Part Twenty-Four, Part Twenty-Five, Part Twenty-Six, Part Twenty-Seven
It was like standing in a crowded room with everyone shouting at once.
To the top of the wall! Fast!
Third unit to the gate! Cut down any in your path!”
All together!! FIRE!
South Tower still holding strong, humans starting to fall back.
Laboratory corridor is clear. Proceeding north.
Sam could hardly control it all, alien voices flooding his mind until Dean had to touch his arm to get his attention.
“Hey, man,” he said, sounding concerned. “There any more of them close by?”
Sam took a deep breath and latched on to the look in Dean's eyes. “Not that I can hear,” he said. “Search parties are on the north side now.”
Dean nodded, glancing at the door. “Let's go see if we can find an exit then,” he said.
Sam followed him out into the corridor and back the way they'd come, towards the stairs. They were getting close when Sam got a sudden burst of angry static, followed by Find Sam Winchester and bring him to me alive!
He stopped dead where he was and Dean stopped as well, turning back with a frown. “Come on,” he hissed. “No time for dawdling – this whole place is going to blow soon.”
“The yellow-eyed alien is here,” said Sam. “I heard it.”
Dean frowned hard, looking around as if he'd be able to see it. “Then it'll go sky-high with the others,” he said. “Come on, Sammy, we have to get out of here.”
Sam nodded hesitantly, just as heavy footsteps started to sound from behind them.
“Shit,” hissed Dean. “Let's go!”
They ran down the corridor, trying to find somewhere to hide, but all the doors on either side were locked.
“Fuck, fuck,” swore Dean, just as the aliens came around the corner behind them. There was a yell, followed by a mental shout, and Dean turned and fired frantically, killing the lead couple of slugs before the others dashed back around the corner, out of the firing line.
Dean's gun made a sudden, cheerful bleeping noise, which was completely incongruous with the situation. “Shit,” swore Dean, then fired again as an alien popped its head round the corner. “Running out of ammo.”
Sam fired his own gun, wishing like hell he had a couple of salt grenades on him, then tried a couple more doors and one of them miraculously opened. He grabbed the back of Dean's jacket as he fired again and yanked him through the door, slamming it shut behind them.
“Only one shot left,” reported Dean, shaking his gun as if that would make the indicator go red again.
“Then let's not hang around here,” said Sam. They were in a lab, surrounded by worktops covered in glassware and mysterious equipment. There was another door at the other end and they ran straight through, then out into another, larger lab.
“Jesus,” said Dean. “What do they need all this crap for?”
Sam shrugged, already heading for the next room. “Whatever it is, it'll be gone soon.”
Dean glanced at his watch again. “Twenty-five minutes,” he reported. Sam sped up.
They passed through more rooms – some of them harmless enough, others more sinister. There was one, round and walled with shiny metal, that just had a large chair in the middle, like a dentist's chair, if dentists need restraints. Sam tried not to think too much about what it might be for, especially not now he knew the yellow-eyed alien was in the building.
The maze of labs ended with what looked like a lobby, plush carpet on the floor and a desk facing a row of elevators. There was an alien behind the desk and it stood up as they rushed in.
Intruders in... it got out before Sam shot it, rock salt burning into its flesh and making it cry out, both aloud and telepathically. It fell back against the desk but it wasn't dead, so Sam shot it again, aiming for its breathing tube. It shattered, sending black smoke streaming out, and the alien started to suffocate, thrashing around.
“Think those elevators go down?” Dean asked. He went over and pressed the Call button.
“Man, I hope so,” said Sam. It was past time to get the hell out of here.
“They head straight down to the main entrance,” hissed an alien voice behind them. “And that leads out to the main gate, which I believe is still being held by your side.”
Sam spun around to find the yellow-eyed alien – Szazel, Cas had called it - behind them, flanked by guards pointing guns at them.
Dean raised his gun, but he didn't fire. “You come a step closer, I'll blow your head apart, you son of a bitch.”
“Sam Winchester,” said Szazel, ignoring Dean. “How fortuitous. How about a deal? Your brother gets to take the elevator out of here, you stay with us.”
“I'm not leaving here without him,” growled Dean and Sam knew he was thinking about the bombs in the warehouse, all primed to go off in twenty minutes. But maybe that would be best, if Dean got out and left Sam to blow up with the aliens. The bombs would disintegrate his body so that they'd never be able to use him to create a race of hybrids and Dean would be free to stop worrying about his half-alien brother.
There was a quiet 'bing' as the elevator arrived and its doors slid open. “You should go,” he said to Dean, his voice shaking. “It's for the best.”
Dean took his eyes off the aliens for a second to give Sam an angry, betrayed look. “You're insane if you think I'm going anywhere without you,” he said. Sam sighed.
“Then I guess you're coming with us as well,” said Szazel. “I suppose it's always good to have a control subject.”
“I will kill you,” said Dean in a hard voice.
“And then my men will kill you,” pointed out Szazel. “And your brother will still end up in our labs.”
“Okay, okay,” said Sam, holding his hands up, shotgun hanging loosely from one of them. “Everyone calm down. Just...Dean, come on. Get out of here, while you still can.”
“Drop it, Sammy,” said Dean without looking at him. “You go down, then we both go down.”
Sam had to resist the temptation to smack him round the head, while simultaneously being stupidly touched. Trust Dean to want to go down in a blaze of glory – literally, in just a few minutes. He thought fast, trying to work out how to get them out of this – Dean had one shot and Sam was willing to bet that, given the chance, he'd use it on Szazel and end the thing who'd killed their Mom and messed everything up for them. If they could just somehow get rid of the two slugs with it, if there was some way Sam could distract them long enough to get to the elevators.
Humans pulling back on all fronts, reported an alien voice loudly inside his head and Sam winced against the noise of it, then paused. Maybe that was it. Maybe he could use their own method of communication against them. It was just a matter, surely, of working out how to switch his brain from Receive to Send.
“Put the gun down and I will not hurt you more than is necessary,” said Szazel.
Dean snorted. “Hell, yeah, I believe that one.”
“Guess this is it, Dean,” said Sam, slowly. “Hopefully I'll catch on you on the flipside.” Which was their code for 'I'm going to try something a little crazy. Be ready.' He concentrated hard on the part of his mind where he heard the alien voices, then pushed out the loudest burst of high-pitched static he could hold in his mind.
One of the alien guards gasped, and its gun faltered. Sam was going to have to try harder than that. He thought hard of all the most annoying sounds he could – the shrill whine of the Impala's radio when one of Dean's tapes clicked off and it switched back to the untuned radio, the noisy buzz of a drill when he was trying to sleep, the shrieking noise that some of the youngest children at Pastor Jim's used to make when they didn't get their way. He smashed it all together, then shoved it out of his mind with all the force he could muster.
It made his head explode with pain, but the effect was immediate. The aliens all flinched, limbs going up to their heads, and one of them dropped its gun. Dean immediately took his chance, firing his one last shot at Szazel and blowing its head up, sending grey flesh splattering onto the other slugs. Sam pulled up his own gun, trying to keep the noise going, and fired it at the guards, salt thudding into them.
“Come on,” yelled Dean, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him into the elevator. A shot hit the back wall just as doors shut and then they were heading down and away.
“Holy fuck,” swore Dean. “You okay? Sammy?”
Sam nodded, gasping. “Fine,” he said, ignoring the feeling of his brain turning itself inside out. God, he was turning into a bigger freak every day.
****
Dean swapped the now-useless gun Cas had given him with the shotgun he'd stashed in his bag, then looked at his watch. They had fifteen minutes to get out the factory, get to his car, and get the hell away from here before they got caught in the explosion. Easy as pie, as long as the headache Sam was pretending he didn't have didn't get worse, or they ran into more slugs, or the entrance came out miles from his car, or...He cut the train of thought off.
The elevator opened in a bigger version of the lobby upstairs, one that was completely empty. Clearly, all the slugs had run off somewhere during the battle.
“Come on, Sammy,” said Dean.
“Right,” said Sam, shaking his head as if coming out of a dream. “I think...seems like most of the others have pulled out already.”
Dean nodded, heading for the exit. “We'll just have to catch them up.”
Outside the entrance, the ground was strewn with bodies, both alien and human. There didn't seem to be anything living around, but Dean kept his gun up anyway. The gate was ahead of them, one of the towers now leaning at an alarming angle while the gates themselves were smashed open. The Winchesters headed for them, moving fast and keeping a close watch over their shoulders.
Once outside they circled around the walls to the breech Gordon had made. Most of the other fighters' trucks had gone, although Dean could see some out on the plain, heading away at great speed. The wall between the gate and the breech was empty, but Dean could see figures moving on the wall beyond it, alien figures who started heading towards them once they saw the Winchesters coming their way.
“Keep your head down, Sammy,” he said, and Sam made a grunting noise of agreement, as if speech was too hard for him right now. Dean glanced back at him, at the way his head was hanging down almost on his chest as he moved, all his concentration on getting one foot in front of the other, and he mentally swore. Seemed like this next bit was going to be all on him.
The Impala was on their side of the breech, but within the range of the aliens' guns. There was no real choice but for them to run for it, especially as they only had about five minutes before the bombs went off. Dean stopped just out of range of the guns, watching the aliens on the top of the wall, who were watching him right back, waiting for them to get close enough to shoot.
“We're going to have to run,” he said to Sam.
“Awesome,” pushed out Sam.
“You gonna make it?” asked Dean. “I'd carry you, but you just had to go and grow so damned big.”
“You never seem to mind when I'm fucking you,” said Sam, raising his head and straightening up with what looked like sheer will power.
Dean grinned at him. “Make it to the car without getting shot,” he said, “and you can prove it to me later.”
Sam snorted. “Only you would think a fuck was better incentive than getting out alive,” he said.
Dean just shrugged, and turned back to the car. “Ready?” he said. “Let's go!”
It was the longest run of Dean's life. Bullets thudded around them, the rattle of guns from the wall making him want to flinch, half-expecting to hear Sam cry out any second and go down, but they both made it. The car even started first try and Dean reversed as fast as he could, ignoring the pained noises the engine made, before spinning round and heading the hell away from there.
And not a moment too soon. They were only just out of range when the bombs went off, the stored nitrogen all blowing at once in a massive fireball, destroying the warehouse dome and most of the factory in the initial explosion and sending fire, smoke and debris shooting miles up into the air. The shockwave hit the Impala a few seconds later, making her shudder and jump, but she was a solid girl and she stood up to it, not even slowing down.
“Oh, fuck,” said Sam, curling up and pushing his fists into his temples. “God DAMN.”
“Hey,” said Dean, worried. “Sammy, come on. Hold in there. It's over.” He put his hand on Sam's knee, trying to keep his eyes on the terrain in front of the car as well as on Sam.
“I want to rip my brain out,” muttered Sam.
Dean squeezed his knee. “But then you won't be able to tell me all those lame random facts you love so much,” he said.
Sam just groaned and dropped his head further into his hands.
****
Bobby and Gordon's trucks were waiting for them by the road. Dean pulled up and got out, leaving Sam inside the car.
“He all right?” Bobby asked sharply.
Dean nodded. “He'll be fine,” he said, but he didn't offer any details.
“That was quite some explosion,” said Gordon with a grin. “When you boys blow something up, you do it properly.”
“We had a lot of help,” pointed out Dean. He glanced around. “Everyone else scattered? Caleb?” The plan was that once the factory was blown, everyone would head off in as many different directions as possible, all of them going to ground wherever they could so that the slugs couldn't track them all. Eventually, they'd all head back to the bases, but it wasn't a good idea to head straight there after a raid this big.
Bobby's jaw clenched. “Caleb didn't make it,” he said, and Dean felt a shock of grief.
“God damnit,” he said, smacking his fist into his leg. Seemed like everyone was dying lately. He glanced back at the car, at where Sam was curled up, just to make sure he was still breathing. “Did Jo and Cas make it out okay?” he asked.
Gordon nodded. “Oh, yeah, we got them,” he said, and there was something about the way he said it that made Dean narrow his eyes.
“Where's Cas then?” he asked. “Wanted to talk to it.”
Gordon gestured back at his truck, still grinning. “We've got it tied up,” he said.
“What?” said Bobby, sounding just as surprised as Dean was.
“Well, it's an alien,” pointed out Gordon. “Maybe it's a new kind, but it's still an alien. You can't trust those fuckers. We're going to find out what its weaknesses are, in case its friends are of the invading frame of mind when they turn up.”
“What?!” repeated Bobby. “You're insane! It's on our side – it helped us.”
“Besides,” added Dean, “don't you think keeping the guy captive for three years is going to piss the others off a lot? And then they might well just wipe the whole damn planet out!”
Gordon shrugged, “Better to be dead than swap being one kind of aliens' bitch for another.”
“Are you really that moronic?” asked Bobby. He started towards Gordon's truck, obviously about to let Cas go, and Gordon pulled out his gun, aiming it at Bobby's head.
“You really don't want to do that, Singer,” he said, his voice deadly serious.
Part Twenty-Nine
*
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 2,785 words
A/N: Okay, so, I really don't like this chapter. If I had the time, I'd delete the whole thing and spend a few days planning it out better in my head, but I don't, so you get this. Maybe when I edit the whole thing I'll be able to make it work better.
Previous Parts: The Road So Far.
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four,Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty-One, Part Twenty-Two, Part Twenty-Three, Part Twenty-Four, Part Twenty-Five, Part Twenty-Six, Part Twenty-Seven
It was like standing in a crowded room with everyone shouting at once.
To the top of the wall! Fast!
Third unit to the gate! Cut down any in your path!”
All together!! FIRE!
South Tower still holding strong, humans starting to fall back.
Laboratory corridor is clear. Proceeding north.
Sam could hardly control it all, alien voices flooding his mind until Dean had to touch his arm to get his attention.
“Hey, man,” he said, sounding concerned. “There any more of them close by?”
Sam took a deep breath and latched on to the look in Dean's eyes. “Not that I can hear,” he said. “Search parties are on the north side now.”
Dean nodded, glancing at the door. “Let's go see if we can find an exit then,” he said.
Sam followed him out into the corridor and back the way they'd come, towards the stairs. They were getting close when Sam got a sudden burst of angry static, followed by Find Sam Winchester and bring him to me alive!
He stopped dead where he was and Dean stopped as well, turning back with a frown. “Come on,” he hissed. “No time for dawdling – this whole place is going to blow soon.”
“The yellow-eyed alien is here,” said Sam. “I heard it.”
Dean frowned hard, looking around as if he'd be able to see it. “Then it'll go sky-high with the others,” he said. “Come on, Sammy, we have to get out of here.”
Sam nodded hesitantly, just as heavy footsteps started to sound from behind them.
“Shit,” hissed Dean. “Let's go!”
They ran down the corridor, trying to find somewhere to hide, but all the doors on either side were locked.
“Fuck, fuck,” swore Dean, just as the aliens came around the corner behind them. There was a yell, followed by a mental shout, and Dean turned and fired frantically, killing the lead couple of slugs before the others dashed back around the corner, out of the firing line.
Dean's gun made a sudden, cheerful bleeping noise, which was completely incongruous with the situation. “Shit,” swore Dean, then fired again as an alien popped its head round the corner. “Running out of ammo.”
Sam fired his own gun, wishing like hell he had a couple of salt grenades on him, then tried a couple more doors and one of them miraculously opened. He grabbed the back of Dean's jacket as he fired again and yanked him through the door, slamming it shut behind them.
“Only one shot left,” reported Dean, shaking his gun as if that would make the indicator go red again.
“Then let's not hang around here,” said Sam. They were in a lab, surrounded by worktops covered in glassware and mysterious equipment. There was another door at the other end and they ran straight through, then out into another, larger lab.
“Jesus,” said Dean. “What do they need all this crap for?”
Sam shrugged, already heading for the next room. “Whatever it is, it'll be gone soon.”
Dean glanced at his watch again. “Twenty-five minutes,” he reported. Sam sped up.
They passed through more rooms – some of them harmless enough, others more sinister. There was one, round and walled with shiny metal, that just had a large chair in the middle, like a dentist's chair, if dentists need restraints. Sam tried not to think too much about what it might be for, especially not now he knew the yellow-eyed alien was in the building.
The maze of labs ended with what looked like a lobby, plush carpet on the floor and a desk facing a row of elevators. There was an alien behind the desk and it stood up as they rushed in.
Intruders in... it got out before Sam shot it, rock salt burning into its flesh and making it cry out, both aloud and telepathically. It fell back against the desk but it wasn't dead, so Sam shot it again, aiming for its breathing tube. It shattered, sending black smoke streaming out, and the alien started to suffocate, thrashing around.
“Think those elevators go down?” Dean asked. He went over and pressed the Call button.
“Man, I hope so,” said Sam. It was past time to get the hell out of here.
“They head straight down to the main entrance,” hissed an alien voice behind them. “And that leads out to the main gate, which I believe is still being held by your side.”
Sam spun around to find the yellow-eyed alien – Szazel, Cas had called it - behind them, flanked by guards pointing guns at them.
Dean raised his gun, but he didn't fire. “You come a step closer, I'll blow your head apart, you son of a bitch.”
“Sam Winchester,” said Szazel, ignoring Dean. “How fortuitous. How about a deal? Your brother gets to take the elevator out of here, you stay with us.”
“I'm not leaving here without him,” growled Dean and Sam knew he was thinking about the bombs in the warehouse, all primed to go off in twenty minutes. But maybe that would be best, if Dean got out and left Sam to blow up with the aliens. The bombs would disintegrate his body so that they'd never be able to use him to create a race of hybrids and Dean would be free to stop worrying about his half-alien brother.
There was a quiet 'bing' as the elevator arrived and its doors slid open. “You should go,” he said to Dean, his voice shaking. “It's for the best.”
Dean took his eyes off the aliens for a second to give Sam an angry, betrayed look. “You're insane if you think I'm going anywhere without you,” he said. Sam sighed.
“Then I guess you're coming with us as well,” said Szazel. “I suppose it's always good to have a control subject.”
“I will kill you,” said Dean in a hard voice.
“And then my men will kill you,” pointed out Szazel. “And your brother will still end up in our labs.”
“Okay, okay,” said Sam, holding his hands up, shotgun hanging loosely from one of them. “Everyone calm down. Just...Dean, come on. Get out of here, while you still can.”
“Drop it, Sammy,” said Dean without looking at him. “You go down, then we both go down.”
Sam had to resist the temptation to smack him round the head, while simultaneously being stupidly touched. Trust Dean to want to go down in a blaze of glory – literally, in just a few minutes. He thought fast, trying to work out how to get them out of this – Dean had one shot and Sam was willing to bet that, given the chance, he'd use it on Szazel and end the thing who'd killed their Mom and messed everything up for them. If they could just somehow get rid of the two slugs with it, if there was some way Sam could distract them long enough to get to the elevators.
Humans pulling back on all fronts, reported an alien voice loudly inside his head and Sam winced against the noise of it, then paused. Maybe that was it. Maybe he could use their own method of communication against them. It was just a matter, surely, of working out how to switch his brain from Receive to Send.
“Put the gun down and I will not hurt you more than is necessary,” said Szazel.
Dean snorted. “Hell, yeah, I believe that one.”
“Guess this is it, Dean,” said Sam, slowly. “Hopefully I'll catch on you on the flipside.” Which was their code for 'I'm going to try something a little crazy. Be ready.' He concentrated hard on the part of his mind where he heard the alien voices, then pushed out the loudest burst of high-pitched static he could hold in his mind.
One of the alien guards gasped, and its gun faltered. Sam was going to have to try harder than that. He thought hard of all the most annoying sounds he could – the shrill whine of the Impala's radio when one of Dean's tapes clicked off and it switched back to the untuned radio, the noisy buzz of a drill when he was trying to sleep, the shrieking noise that some of the youngest children at Pastor Jim's used to make when they didn't get their way. He smashed it all together, then shoved it out of his mind with all the force he could muster.
It made his head explode with pain, but the effect was immediate. The aliens all flinched, limbs going up to their heads, and one of them dropped its gun. Dean immediately took his chance, firing his one last shot at Szazel and blowing its head up, sending grey flesh splattering onto the other slugs. Sam pulled up his own gun, trying to keep the noise going, and fired it at the guards, salt thudding into them.
“Come on,” yelled Dean, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him into the elevator. A shot hit the back wall just as doors shut and then they were heading down and away.
“Holy fuck,” swore Dean. “You okay? Sammy?”
Sam nodded, gasping. “Fine,” he said, ignoring the feeling of his brain turning itself inside out. God, he was turning into a bigger freak every day.
Dean swapped the now-useless gun Cas had given him with the shotgun he'd stashed in his bag, then looked at his watch. They had fifteen minutes to get out the factory, get to his car, and get the hell away from here before they got caught in the explosion. Easy as pie, as long as the headache Sam was pretending he didn't have didn't get worse, or they ran into more slugs, or the entrance came out miles from his car, or...He cut the train of thought off.
The elevator opened in a bigger version of the lobby upstairs, one that was completely empty. Clearly, all the slugs had run off somewhere during the battle.
“Come on, Sammy,” said Dean.
“Right,” said Sam, shaking his head as if coming out of a dream. “I think...seems like most of the others have pulled out already.”
Dean nodded, heading for the exit. “We'll just have to catch them up.”
Outside the entrance, the ground was strewn with bodies, both alien and human. There didn't seem to be anything living around, but Dean kept his gun up anyway. The gate was ahead of them, one of the towers now leaning at an alarming angle while the gates themselves were smashed open. The Winchesters headed for them, moving fast and keeping a close watch over their shoulders.
Once outside they circled around the walls to the breech Gordon had made. Most of the other fighters' trucks had gone, although Dean could see some out on the plain, heading away at great speed. The wall between the gate and the breech was empty, but Dean could see figures moving on the wall beyond it, alien figures who started heading towards them once they saw the Winchesters coming their way.
“Keep your head down, Sammy,” he said, and Sam made a grunting noise of agreement, as if speech was too hard for him right now. Dean glanced back at him, at the way his head was hanging down almost on his chest as he moved, all his concentration on getting one foot in front of the other, and he mentally swore. Seemed like this next bit was going to be all on him.
The Impala was on their side of the breech, but within the range of the aliens' guns. There was no real choice but for them to run for it, especially as they only had about five minutes before the bombs went off. Dean stopped just out of range of the guns, watching the aliens on the top of the wall, who were watching him right back, waiting for them to get close enough to shoot.
“We're going to have to run,” he said to Sam.
“Awesome,” pushed out Sam.
“You gonna make it?” asked Dean. “I'd carry you, but you just had to go and grow so damned big.”
“You never seem to mind when I'm fucking you,” said Sam, raising his head and straightening up with what looked like sheer will power.
Dean grinned at him. “Make it to the car without getting shot,” he said, “and you can prove it to me later.”
Sam snorted. “Only you would think a fuck was better incentive than getting out alive,” he said.
Dean just shrugged, and turned back to the car. “Ready?” he said. “Let's go!”
It was the longest run of Dean's life. Bullets thudded around them, the rattle of guns from the wall making him want to flinch, half-expecting to hear Sam cry out any second and go down, but they both made it. The car even started first try and Dean reversed as fast as he could, ignoring the pained noises the engine made, before spinning round and heading the hell away from there.
And not a moment too soon. They were only just out of range when the bombs went off, the stored nitrogen all blowing at once in a massive fireball, destroying the warehouse dome and most of the factory in the initial explosion and sending fire, smoke and debris shooting miles up into the air. The shockwave hit the Impala a few seconds later, making her shudder and jump, but she was a solid girl and she stood up to it, not even slowing down.
“Oh, fuck,” said Sam, curling up and pushing his fists into his temples. “God DAMN.”
“Hey,” said Dean, worried. “Sammy, come on. Hold in there. It's over.” He put his hand on Sam's knee, trying to keep his eyes on the terrain in front of the car as well as on Sam.
“I want to rip my brain out,” muttered Sam.
Dean squeezed his knee. “But then you won't be able to tell me all those lame random facts you love so much,” he said.
Sam just groaned and dropped his head further into his hands.
Bobby and Gordon's trucks were waiting for them by the road. Dean pulled up and got out, leaving Sam inside the car.
“He all right?” Bobby asked sharply.
Dean nodded. “He'll be fine,” he said, but he didn't offer any details.
“That was quite some explosion,” said Gordon with a grin. “When you boys blow something up, you do it properly.”
“We had a lot of help,” pointed out Dean. He glanced around. “Everyone else scattered? Caleb?” The plan was that once the factory was blown, everyone would head off in as many different directions as possible, all of them going to ground wherever they could so that the slugs couldn't track them all. Eventually, they'd all head back to the bases, but it wasn't a good idea to head straight there after a raid this big.
Bobby's jaw clenched. “Caleb didn't make it,” he said, and Dean felt a shock of grief.
“God damnit,” he said, smacking his fist into his leg. Seemed like everyone was dying lately. He glanced back at the car, at where Sam was curled up, just to make sure he was still breathing. “Did Jo and Cas make it out okay?” he asked.
Gordon nodded. “Oh, yeah, we got them,” he said, and there was something about the way he said it that made Dean narrow his eyes.
“Where's Cas then?” he asked. “Wanted to talk to it.”
Gordon gestured back at his truck, still grinning. “We've got it tied up,” he said.
“What?” said Bobby, sounding just as surprised as Dean was.
“Well, it's an alien,” pointed out Gordon. “Maybe it's a new kind, but it's still an alien. You can't trust those fuckers. We're going to find out what its weaknesses are, in case its friends are of the invading frame of mind when they turn up.”
“What?!” repeated Bobby. “You're insane! It's on our side – it helped us.”
“Besides,” added Dean, “don't you think keeping the guy captive for three years is going to piss the others off a lot? And then they might well just wipe the whole damn planet out!”
Gordon shrugged, “Better to be dead than swap being one kind of aliens' bitch for another.”
“Are you really that moronic?” asked Bobby. He started towards Gordon's truck, obviously about to let Cas go, and Gordon pulled out his gun, aiming it at Bobby's head.
“You really don't want to do that, Singer,” he said, his voice deadly serious.
*
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Date: 2009-11-30 12:11 pm (UTC)Man, I got so pissed off about that, I forgot to get all gleeful about Dean using the last charge/bullet to kill the YEA. Ha ha! I should have realised it would go down that way when Cas said there was a limited charge on that gun. *facepalm* It's awesome how you've pretty much kept it all the same. Why do I keep getting suprised?
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Date: 2009-11-30 12:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-30 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-03 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-03 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-03 01:26 am (UTC)