Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Love and Duty	By : rae_roberts Category: Supernatural > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 3443 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural and make no profit from this story. Just borrowing Papa Winchester and his boys for fun.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Sam clung to the back of his horse, the reins forgotten along with everything Dean had tried to teach him as they raced toward a low shack in the distance. Raindrops began to fall, heavy and icy cold as they struck his shoulders, and thunder rumbled.
Dean had reined his own mount back to drop behind Sam’s, guarding his retreat. “Ride for the shelter,” he yelled above the horses’ pounding hoofbeats and the pounding of the rain now pouring relentlessly from the darkened skies. Fortunately Sam’s horse seemed to know instinctively where to go, closing in on the closest of the crude structures that dotted the landscape west of the Mississippi, offering shelter against the storms that struck with little warning.
Sam didn’t so much dismount as tumble from his horse as he reached the shack with Dean reining up right behind him. The horses stamped and pawed the ground, wild-eyed, and even Dean’s quiet but firm urging couldn’t convince the panicking animals to enter the shelter as another icy gust swirled around them.
“Let ‘em run free,” Dean panted, letting go of the reins. “A little rain won’t hurt them, and the spirit won’t be interested in horses, not when it's got us.”
Sam nodded mutely as his horse took off after Dean’s. He’d long since given up any pretense of being in control of the animal anyway. He let Dean push him into the shelter, moving to help close the double doors, but Dean shook his head. “Leave them open a crack.”
He watched, bemused, as Dean grabbed a bag of rock salt tucked into a nook where the rafters met the wall and poured a line of salt along the threshold, leaving a gap where the two doors stood ajar. Dean tossed the sack to Sam, turning back to the doorway and pulling a knife from its sheath at his belt.
“Lay down salt wherever you see any cracks or holes in the walls, even little ones,” he ordered over the drumming of the rain on the roof. “Move, Sam!”
Under other circumstances Sam would have delighted in the chance to tease his country boy fiance for his superstitions, but the wind howling around the shelter sounded like a scream of rage and he could see Dean’s breath puffing out in little clouds with every word he spoke. Sam’s wet shirt felt stiff where it stuck to his back, but thunder boomed and he could see the flash of lightning through the gap between the doors, in spite of the chilling cold. Only a fool would believe that this was a natural storm, he decided, and hastened to do as Dean said.
Once he was certain a barrier of salt covered every possible entry other than the one Dean stood guard in front of, Sam put the salt bag back on the rafter and drew his pocketknife, chuckling ruefully at the thin blade, not even as wide across as his palm. Missouri Mosely had said it would do, he reminded himself, and moved to stand beside his fiance.
Dean had pulled on his t-shirt but his bare arms were pebbled with goosebumps as he balanced lightly on the balls of his feet, hunting knife poised in his hand.   “Here,” he said brusquely, not bothering to turn to look at Sam, drawing a second knife from his boot and offering it hilt-first.
“I’m good.” Sam felt foolish clutching his penknife, but Dean grunted approval and turned his boot knife in his fist, clearly ready to do battle against whatever came through the narrow gap in the door. “Why don’t we just finish the salt line and wait it out?” Sam asked, remembering the earlier storm and Missouri Mosely’s serene calm as she’d presided over the classroom.
“Once a spirit goes vengeful it won’t rest.   We’re prepared. I can gank it,” Dean growled. “You don’t want to let it move on and catch some field hand unaware after they’ve been hitting the bottle, do you? Or some little kid that’s wandered off from their mom?”
Sam nodded grimly. “How do we kill it?” but Dean’s answer was cut off as another peal of ghostly laughter sounded just outside. Sam caught a fleeting glimpse of a spectral figure as it rushed through the door. Dean slashed at it with his knives as it passed and it disappeared.
“Like that.” Dean put his back to the door, blocking the restless ghost in with them. “Just keep cutting at it. The iron tears into it like steel cuts into living flesh.”
“How do I even know where it—Aaah!” Sam yelped as the spirit materialized in front of him, appearing as a woman in a short, old-fashioned dress with her hair flowing over her shoulders, all pale except for the dark, gaping holes of her eyes and mouth, like the negative of a photograph. Freezing cold assaulted him, making his heart race as her claw-like hands reached for him.   “Aaah!” Sam shrieked again and slashed at her with his knife. The icy cold eased and the spectre disappeared.
“That’s the spirit, Sammy!” Dean laughed as his fiance turned wildly this way and that, brandishing his knife.
“This isn’t funny,” Sam scowled, a true believer now. “Watch out!” he yelled as the woman appeared again at Dean’s side, grasping his arm with her talons. Dean’s hunting knife dropped from nerveless fingers as the vengeful spirit’s icy grip numbed his arm. He stabbed her midsection with the knife he’d drawn from his boot as Sam rushed forward and stabbed his own, smaller blade between her spectral shoulders. The ghost howled and disappeared again.
“Thanks.” Dean’s grin was as broad as ever. He rubbed his arm, trying to hasten warmth back into it.
Sam winced. His fiance’s muscular forearm was pale where the spirit had sunk her talons into it, in contrast to the tanned skin of his bicep.   There was no time for sympathy, however, because another chilling gust of wind signalled the restless ghost’s return. Sam’s breath formed a tiny cloud in front of his face as that evil, spectral chuckle sounded in his ear. The ghost materialized in front of him, lunging for his chest. He cried out as those icy talons pierced him, slashing weakly as the freezing cold sapped his strength. The ghost screamed as his blade sank into her flesh, the dark hole of her mouth gaping wide, but she held on, clawing at Sam’s chest.
Then Dean was right behind her, cutting into her with both knives, carving wispy ribbons like bits of cirrus cloud from her pale, incorporeal flesh. With a final scream, the vengeful spirit collapsed in on herself, disappearing in a final puff of vapor.
Sam’s whole body trembled, not from fear but from cold, his heart hammering painfully against his ribcage. Dean wrapped his arms around him, pulling him tight against his chest, warming him with the heat of his body. Sam couldn’t help but sag within the circle of his fiance’s strong arms, weakened by the ghost’s talons. “I’m okay,” he muttered against Dean’s shoulder, but found himself content to stay right where he was until he stopped shivering.
Dean turned, leaning his back against the rough wall of the shelter, sliding down to sit on the floor with Sam cradled against his chest as the rain drumming on the roof slowly eased and then stopped. “You did good, Sam,” he murmured, and Sam could hear the smile in his voice.

Dean tipped Sam’s head up, looking into his eyes. For a moment Sam thought he would kiss him, but Dean just nodded, apparently satisfied with what he saw, and gave him a bracing—and strictly platonic—slap on the back. “Let’s round up the horses and get on home.”
- 8
- 9
- 10
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Love and Duty