"So, Gordy." Dean began in his cold tone of voice, looking over to the hunter behind me. "I know me, Sam and Willow ain't exactly your favorite people, but don't you think this is a little extreme?"
"What, you think this is revenge?" the man answered in a huff, and I strained my head around to try and see his reaction.
"Well, we did leave you tied up in your own mess for three days," Dean laughed. "Which was awesome. Sorry, I shouldn't laugh."
"Yeah. I was definitely planning on whuppin' your ass for that," Gordon commented and I rolled my eyes when Dean's eyes found me.
"But that's not what this is. This isn't personal. I'm not a killer. I'm a hunter." He turned to Dean, pointing. "And your brother's fair game."
Dean's face contorted into one of shock, which the grim-faced hunter ignored.
"Mm-hmm," I hummed. "Then I guess I got the VIP treatment," I sasses, trying to give Dean a moment to take in Gordon's words.
"Just a means to an end, Willow," Gordon assured me. "I needed you quiet, and Dean to do what I said.
"See, I was doing an exorcism down in Louisiana. Teenage girl, seemed routine, some low-level demon. But between all the jabbering and the head-spinning, the damn thing muttered something," Gordon revealed. "About a coming war. And I don't think it meant to, it just kind of slipped out. But it was too late. Piqued my interest. And you can really make a demon talk, you got the right tools. Isn't that right, Willow?"
I ignored his question but focused on the information he had told us—a coming war.
"And what happened to the girl it was possessing?" Dean asked, his cold stare already knowing the answer.
"She didn't make it," Gordon told him, as calmly as if he was talking about taking out the trash. I cringed at his indifference.
"Well, you're a son of a bitch," Dean told him, shaking his head.
I could hear how the hunter behind me dragged his feet over the floor, coming into view. He slapped Dean hard across the face.
"That's my momma you're talking about."
I let out a low chuckle, feeling my body hot with rage. "Well, it would explain a lot."
Gordon turned to me, and I braced for impact, but instead, he bent down next to me, getting to eye level.
"I don't know why you pretend to care. You're the same as me."
"I am nothing like you," I snarled.
"No? I've heard about how you lock the demons in their meat suits," his voice was low. "I happen to know the lengths you'd go to in order to get information."
"Unlike you, I don't enjoy it," I seethed. He got to his feet, smiling down at me as if satisfied I admitted it.
"Anyway," Gordon said, continuing his story. "This demon tells me there are soldiers to fight in this coming war. Humans, fighting on hell's side. You believe that? I mean, they're psychics, so they're not exactly pure humans, but still. What kind of worthless scumbag have you got to be to turn against your own race?" Dean glared at the man, but I could feel my face pale with realization.
Gorgon began to smile. "But you know the biggest kick in the ass? This demon said I knew one of them. Our very own Sammy Winchester."
Dean began to chuckle. "Oh, this is ... this is a whole new level of moronic, even for you."
"Yeah? Come on, Dean. I know. About Sam's visions. I know everything." Dean looked amused, but I recognized the rage.
"Really? Because a demon told you?" The oldest Winchester laughed again, "Yeah, and it wasn't lying."
"Hey, Dean. I'm not some reckless yahoo, okay? I did my homework. Made damn sure it was true," Gordon stated. "Look, you've got your Roadhouse connections, I got mine. It's how I found Sammy in the first place." I froze at his words. Someone had sold us out.
Gordon walked across the room and sat down in an old armchair, rifle in hand.
"About a month ago I found another one of these freaks here in town. He could deep-fry a person just by touching them."
I cut my eyes to Dean's, realizing my own stupid mistake. I should have told them, I should have come here to check out the murder in person.
"Yeah, did he kill anyone?" Dean wondered, looking down at the ropes that tied him.
"Well, besides Mr. Tinkles the cat? No. But he was working up to it. They're all gonna be killers, Dean. We've got to take them all out. And that means Sammy too."
"You don't know that, Gordon," I pressed. He ignored me, cocking his rifle.
"You think Sam's stupid enough to walk through that front door?" Dean asked, glaring.
"No, I don't. Especially since I'm sure you found a way to warn him. Ha. You really think I'm that stupid?"
Dean smirked, raising his eyebrows meaningfully, and Gordon stood up, walking back to the front room, and I had to twist my head in an uncomfortable position to be able to keep my eyes on him.
"No. Sammy's going to scope the place first, see me covering the front door. So he's going to take the back. And when he does he'll hit the tripwire. Then -- " He pulled out a grenade from his bag. "Boom."
"Sam's not gonna fall for a friggin' tripwire," Dean stated confidently.
"Maybe you're right. That's why I'll have a second one." Gordon pulled out another grenade, and I could see the color drain from Dean's face. Pressure had built up in my chest, and now it tightened. "Hey, look. I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to do this, I really do. But for what it's worth, it'll be quick."
I watched as Gordon disappeared into the back to set up his tripwires, but my eyes landed on Dean as soon as he was out of sight.
"You okay?" He breathed out before I had the chance to say anything.
"Yeah," I assured him. "You?" He nodded his answer. "Can you get out?"
"I'm working on it," he whispered, and my eyes flew to the door to make sure Gordon wasn't back just yet.
"We need to convince him this isn't the right thing," I mumbled, and I felt the task's impossibility, my fingers clawing at the armrests. I straightened my back, straining to look if I could see the large hunter, but he was still rigging his trap. I pulled at my ropes in frustration, feeling the skin on my wrists becoming raw.
I tilted my head up to the ceiling, closing my eyes, my brains going over all the scenarios of how this could go. "The second I get out of here, I'm gonna put a cap through his fucking head."
"That's not very nice," Gordon's voice mused as he came back. I groaned and slowly opened my eyes to look at him.
"It doesn't have to end that way," I hummed. "This isn't right, Gordon."
"Come on, man. I know Sam, okay, better than anyone," Dean began, and Gordon picked up a chair from the floor, sitting on it beside Dean. "He's got more of a conscience than I do, I mean, the guy feels guilty surfing the Internet for porn."
"Maybe you're right. But one day, he's going to be a monster."
"How? Huh? How's a guy like Sam become a monster?"
"Beats me. But he will," Gordon told us.
"No, you don't know that!" Dean's growl was desperate, and he glared at the other hunter with such hate that even the devil would have been shocked.
"I'm surprised at you, Dean. Getting all emotional. I'd heard you were more of a professional than this." Gordon continued in his slow, calm voice. "Look, let's say you were cruising around in that car of yours and, uh, you had little Hitler riding shotgun, right? Back when he was just some goofy, crappy artist. But you knew what he was going to turn into someday. You'd take him out, no questions, am I right?"
"That's not Sam," Dean prompted.
"Yes, it is. You just can't see it yet. Dean, it's his destiny." I stared at Gordon as he spoke; the indifference in his eyes made my skin crawl. "Look, I'm sympathetic. He's your brother, you love the guy. This has got to hurt like hell for you."
The dark hunter walked over to his bag and pulled out two scarfs. "But here's the thing." He used one to gag Dean. "It would wreck him. But your dad? If it really came right down to it, he would have had the stones to do the right thing here. But you're telling me you're not the man he is?"
While Dean had no choice but to settle with glaring daggers at him, I was yet to be gaged.
"Let me tell you a secret about John Winchester, Gordon." My hoarse voice was low and threatening, catching his interest. He crouched down in front of me, coming face to face. "John Winchester never did a thing out of fear, like you. Every decision he ever made was calculated, except when it came to his boys. If there was the slightest chance to save Sam, he would take it. He would let the world burn."
"You and I both know that's not true," Gordon claimed, and I felt the smile come onto my lips as I became more sure of my words. John was ruled by emotions, hate for the demon, revenge, and the immense love he felt for his boys, the need to keep them safe. He had died for it, his life for Dean's.
"No? Then you ask yourself the question why he asked me to look out for his boys." He studied my face for a moment.
"How much did he pay you? I'll top it. The man's dead. You owe him nothing, " Gordon offered, and I could feel the snarl settling deeper on my face.
"He gave me something much more valuable than money, and a psychopath like you will never be able to top it." For some reason, that made a muscle twitch in his emotionless face.
"What did he give you, Willow?"
"His friendship. His loyalty." The twitch in the older man's face became more pronounced.
"Yeah, I can see that. Two assholes going after demons together," he commented, masking with a smile.
"John might talk a big game, but he'd never hurt a hair upon his son's head. You might want to re-evaluate your logic if he is your role model," I told him. "He'd come looking for revenge, and you know how he was with that."
"I couldn't give two craps about what John would do or not. I'd rather make sure Sammy never gets the opportunity to prove you wrong."
A cold laugh escaped my lips. "You should care what John would do," I told him. "Because if you try to hurt Sam or Dean Winchester any more than you already have, I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth and blow your brains out, in his name."
"Threatening won't help you, Willow." He gaged me. "Sammy's gonna die today."
---
It felt like an eternity before anything happened. Gordon sat down, watching the front door, and when the clicks of someone picking the back lock could be heard, I already knew who it was.
Meeting Dean's wide eyes, I could feel the desperation set in. I started ripping at my binds for the millionth time, Dean's head twisting and turning to try and warn his brother despite the gag.
"Ya hear him?" Gordon hummed, void of emotion. The door clicked open. "Here he comes."
I closed my eyes tightly as the first grande went off. I could hear Dean scream through his gag, and my stomach twisted as a few seconds of silence went by.
"Hold on. Not yet." Gordon told us, and I opened my eyes, unable to breathe. "Just wait and see."
The second explosion made me flinch. Pieces of wood and debrief exploded into the room, and it was a miracle that we weren't hit by anything.
I was suffocating from anger, grief, and hopelessness. But hearing the sound Dean made was the worst. The heartbreaking, muffled sob that shook his whole body made my skin turn to ice.
A coldness spread through me, and I stared blankly ahead of me, not registering any sounds, the blast still ringing in my ears.
Slowly the high-pitched beep became quieter, not entirely disappearing. Gordon walked over to Dean, and as he approached the broken man, who violently struggled against his restraints, I only had one thought going through my mind.
"Sorry, Dean."
I narrowed my eyes at me when Gordon glanced back, that twitch by his right eye visible.
He walked to the now barely existing backroom, out of my view. That's when I saw the smoking shoe on the ground in the doorway.
I couldn't muster the courage to look at Dean, so I kept my eyes trained on the spot Gordon had been just a second ago, jaw clenched.
Mumbled sounds broke the silence.
"Put it down now!" Sam Winchester's voice made me release a breath I didn't know I was holding. Dean spun in his seat, grunting out his relief.
"You wouldn't shoot me, would you, Sammy? Because your brother, he thinks you're some kind of saint," Gordon taunted him. Maybe Sam won't, but I will.
"Yeah? Well, I wouldn't be so sure," Sam threatened.
"See, that's what I said."
I could hear them struggle, and when Dean let out a frustrated sound, once again fighting against the ropes, I stayed calm. Cold. My mind raced.
"You're no better than the filthy things you hunt," Gordon grunted out in the back room. "Do it. Do it! Show your brother and little Willow the killer you really are, Sammy."
The sound of something hitting the floor, then the rage-filled voice, "It's Sam."
When Sam came into view, he had a few cuts and bruises, but he looked okay. Limping forward, he passed his brother, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder before bending down next to me and untying me.
I couldn't even speak; my whole body was shaking. Sam smiled faintly at me and then went to work on his brother's restraints. I got to my feet, slowly walking over to Gordon's bag, stretching my limbs and picking out one of his guns.
While Sam untyed Dean, I began to stagger out to the back. Gordon's limp body was on the ground, and a frown settled on my face when I saw his chest still rising and falling.
"That son of a..." Dean spoke behind me. Perhaps, I wasn't better than Gordon. After all, here I was, aiming at a guy with no chance to defend himself.
"Dean. No."
"I let him live once. I'm not making the same mistake twice."
"Willow," Sam's voice was suddenly only a few steps behind me. "Trust me. Gordon's taken care of. Come on."
I didn't move; my body felt like lead. I couldn't let him live.
"He's not getting a day older," I gritted out. "He knows too much." I cocked the gun, staring down at him.
A hand clasped around my arm, and I didn't care who it belonged to. I shoved whoever it was away with all the force I could muster, making Dean stagger back.
Gordon looked much less menacing while he was unconscious, and a familiar feeling flooded me as I slowly began to squeeze the trigger.
"Willow, don't," Sam begged. "Let's just get out of here as fast as possible."
I took a step closer, ensuring the muzzle was right above his forehead. I wouldn't pretend it was anything less than an execution.
"Willow!" Dean growled, and I bared my teeth and squeezed the trigger.
The gun clicked.
I breathed out, and suddenly my chest was heaving. I blinked as if I'd just woken up. Raging, I clicked out the magazine, only to find it empty. I threw the useless piece of metal across the room, and Dean made another attempt to grab me; this time, I let him.
"Like I said," Sam repeated as I passed him, eyes studying me. "Gordon's taken care of."
We all walked out of the house, me a bit more reluctant than the brothers and Sam staggering and half limping. The cold air made me pull my leather jacket just a bit closer. The night was quiet, and the moon made the surrounding trees cast shadows over us.
A shot rang out, and when I glanced back, Gordon walked towards us, a gun in each hand. Dean grabbed me and forced me to follow him, not that I wasn't already running. Shot after shot rang out, all seemingly missing.
"Come on! You call this taken care of?" Dean grunted, accusingly looking at Sam. The three of us lunged forward to duck into a ditch. I allowed myself a quick look over the top, noting Gordon coming closer. "What the hell are we doing?"
"Sam, give me your gun," I ordered, but he just shook his head, looking from Dean to me, meeting my eyes.
"Just trust me on this, all right?"
I was still shaking from my attempted murder inside the house and wasn't really feeling the trust Sam was asking for. It's not that I didn't trust him or Dean; I did wholeheartedly, but the uneasy feeling of not being in control made my skin crawl. It was a true effort to do what he asked at that moment.
Dean's hand pressed down on my back, making me press further into the ground, probably fearful that I'd do something stupid. I sighed deeply, and my whole body cringed.
That was until the police cars pulled up.
With a new curiosity, I looked up from our hiding spot. A satisfied smirk crept up on my lips when Gordon was arrested, and the cops pulled out the hidden weapons compartment in his car. The look on his face... Priceless.
"Anonymous tip," Sam told us, and I quired an eyebrow at him, my smirk developing into a grin of amusement when I saw the smile on his face.
"You're a fine upstanding citizen, Sam," Dean told his brother from my other side, and I turned to the older hunter, biting my lip to try and hold back the gloating smile. He was already looking at me, smirking. "Satisfied?" Dean chuckled, and even though I didn't speak, he seemed to find the answer in my eyes.
---
"Yeah, he almost killed us both because somebody over there can't keep their friggin' mouth shut," Dean said on the phone with Ellen. He was leaning against the hood of his car, brows furrowed into a frown.
"And you honestly think that it was me? Or Ash? Or Jo? No way." I gave Dean a look, letting him know I believed her.
"Well, who else knows about Sam, huh?" Dean continued, and I looked at the younger Winchester in the passenger seat, Dean following my gaze. "I mean, you must have been talking to somebody."
"Hey, you can say a lot of things about us. But we are not disloyal. And we're not stupid. We haven't breathed a word of this."
"Gordon said he had Roadhouse connections, Ellen."
"And this roadhouse is full of other hunters. They're all smart. They're good trackers. Each of them with their own patterns and connections. Look, hell, I could name twelve of them right now that are capable of putting this together." I could hear her sigh on the other end of the line. "I am sorry about what happened, Dean. But I can't control these people. Or what they choose to believe."
I sighed for Dean to hand me the phone once he had exchanged a few more words, and he did, giving me a pointed look as if not understanding what I wanted.
"Hey Ellen, mind giving the phone to Ash for a sec?"
"Two seconds, honey." There was a short pause, but then I heard my friend's gruff voice on the other end.
"Willow Price," he drawled. "What gives me the pleasure?"
"I want to know the name of every hunter that was in the bar the last time you met Sam Winchester."
"Why would you want..?"
"'cause I want to know who to look out for," I snarled, not giving him a chance to finish his sentence.
After ending the call, I turned back to Dean. The deep frown on his face when he watched me made me hand back his phone with a softness I wasn't known for.
"You okay?" He asked me carefully. "You took quite the beating."
"That was nothing. I'm fine," I assured him. He hooked his fingers into one of my belt loops, pulling me closer, positioning me between his legs. My arms naturally wrapped around his neck, tangling up in his short hair. "Now I'm better than fine," I smirked, trying to seem cocky, but my faint blush exposed me.
"Does it hurt?" His brows were still furrowed with worry.
"Yes," I pouted playfully at him. "You better kiss the pain away."
That put a smirk on his lips. "Hmm, I can do that."
His lips hungrily met mine, his hands firmly on my hips. The day's worries were long forgotten when he gripped my ass and pulled me closer to his chest. I giggled against his lips, and he began to kiss the wounds on my face.
Hungry for more, I gripped his chin, forcing him to stop, and pecked his lips. "I'm glad you're both okay," I told him. He brought me into his chest, nuzzling his head into the crane of my neck and kissing me just below my ear. If anyone had told me, at that moment, that there was a world full of people out there, I would have laughed.
There was only us.
His calloused hands around my waist and my swollen lips waiting for his.
It didn't take long for his lips to return to mine; a hum of pleasure escaped as they did. He groaned and pulled back, resting his forehead on mine, his fingers digging into my hips.
"Urgh, Willow." My name sounded like a prayer on his plump lips. His gruff voice doing things to my heart. "What are you doing to me?"
I sighed in bliss as he continued to trail kisses over my jaw.
The interruption couldn't have come at a worse time. Dean was just about to smash his lips into mine again when Sam honked the car horn, making us both jump.
"Can we just give him some cash and drop him off at a bar or something?" Dean asked, glaring at his smirking brother, not making an attempt to remove his arms from around me.
---
"Hey, Ava, it's Sam. Again. Um, call me when you get this, just want to make sure you got home okay. All right. Bye." Sam ended his call, only getting to voicemail. It was one of the first things he had told us the girl we had seen him with, Ava, what a psychic, just like him.
"Everything all right?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, I hope so."
"Well, Gordon should be reaching for the soap for the next few years at least," Dean said to calm his brother but only succeeded in making me chuckle.
"Yeah. If they pin Scott Carey's murder on him. And if he doesn't bust out," Sam commented. I could see the unease in Dean's body language, even from behind him. I put a comforting hand on his tense shoulders, and he visibly relaxed.
"Dude, you ever take off like that again..." Dean glanced at his brother.
"What? You'll kill me?" Sam asked jokingly. I didn't even try to hide my smile and got a reprimanding look from Dean in the rearview mirror, but he wasn't angry. He looked over to Sammy unamused.
"That is so not funny."
The younger hunter chuckled. "All right. All right. So where to next, then?"
"One word:" Dean rasped out. "Amsterdam."
"Dean!"
"Come on, man, I hear the coffeeshops don't even serve coffee," the older Winchester turned to look at him with a sparkle in his eye and a boyish grin before returning to the road.
"I'm not just gonna ditch the job," Sam told him, and I agreed. This was my life. It had always been my life, and there was nothing else out there for me. Even at college, I found myself dragged into the supernatural world. Still, I wished it upon no one. If Dean wanted out, I'd get him a way out, and that included an out for Sammy.
I leaned back into the backseat, my leg bouncing.
"Screw the job. Screw it, man, I'm sick of the job anyway. I mean, we don't get paid, we don't get thanked. The only thing we get's bad luck," Dean told us.
"Well, come on, dude, you're a hunter. I mean, it's what you were meant to do." Sam shot back with furrowed brows.
"Ah, I wasn't meant to do anything, I don't believe in that destiny crap."
"You mean you don't believe in my destiny."
"Yeah, whatever."
I stayed quiet, just listening to their conversation.
"Look, Dean, I've tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California, and look what happened. You can't run from this. And you can't protect me."
"I can try," Dean hummed, then his eyes found me in the mirror again, knowing I would do anything for both him and his brother. I offered a small smile.
"Thanks for that." Dean nodded at his brother's words. "Look, Dean, I'm gonna keep hunting. I mean, whatever is coming, I'm taking it head-on, so if you really want to watch my back, then I guess you're gonna have to stick around."
It was the most selfish feeling I'd ever had, but I felt relieved.
"Bitch," Dean told him, and my eyes shot up to look at him.
"Jerk," Sam answered, and my eyes cut to him, understanding this probably was what they did when things got too emotional.
"You're both idiots; you know that?" I huffed out.
They grinned back at me, and I snorted out a laughter in disbelief. These guys...
"By the way," Sam said, turning around to look at me. He pointed a finger at me and then at Dean. "I owe both of you a big, fat 'I told you so.' I just need to ask you to keep down the PDA." He began to grin while I rolled my eyes and felt my cheeks flush.
"Shut up, Sam," I mumbled, looking out of the window, feeling Dean's eyes on me. Sam shifted his attention back to his phone, ignoring our reactions.
"You calling that Ava girl again? You sweet on her or something?" Dean teased him.
"She's engaged, Dean."
"So? What's the point in saving the world if you can't get a little nookie once in a while, huh?"
I smacked the back of his head and immediately got a glare in the rearview mirror, which turned to a wink a second later. I smirked at him and leaned my arms on the backrest between the brothers, letting my hand rub Dean's neck while Sammy tried to get a hold of Ava.
"What?" Dean asked after a moment when Sam frowned down at his phone.
"Just a feeling. How far is it to Peoria?"
---
Ava lived together with her fiancé in a nice house. Tell you the truth; I was a bit jealous. Ava had everything I might have had in a different reality. Everything I wanted but could never have.
"Hello? Is anybody home?" Sam called out into the empty house.
I scouted the lower floor with my gun drawn while Dean and Sam went to the second floor. Once I made sure it was empty, I followed the brothers upstairs. The first thing I smelled was the blood.
"Sulfur. Demon's been here," Dean declared from inside. I rounded the wall, and not until then did I see the body.
A man was in the large king-sized bed, blood everywhere, chest ripped open and dead eyes staring—the red liquid stained even the carpet around.
"Shit," I muttered at the shock of it, putting my hand to my nose to block out the strong smell of blood and rotten smell of sulfur. Dean looked over at me ominously.
Sam crouched down by the bed, picking something from the floor. He held up the engagement ring, staring at it. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.
"Ava."