Down the Valley of the Shadow Chapter 5
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Chapter 5
Ride, Boldly Ride
The ride out to Bobby’s ranch was far too uneventful, which left Rufus on edge. But Bobby and John were in no fit state to object to McLeod’s seeming mercy; Sam was too torn up over whatever the demon had done to him in that hour he was missing to even notice; and Dean and Ellen were too busy worrying about everyone else. So was Ash when he arrived a few minutes later with Dr. Visyak. Rufus therefore took it upon himself to stand watch at the living room window.
For her part, the good doctor quickly checked Rufus’ head and Bobby’s leg and declared herself satisfied with the state of both. She offered to look at Sam next, but he declined.
“Are you sure?” she pressed. “You act like you’ve just come from the front.”
Sam shook his head. “It’s not the kind of thing I need a doctor for. Thanks, though. Just... Pa’s the one who needs your help.”
John had regained the use of his leg by this point, but the entire right side of his torso was still numb, and his right arm was lifeless. Dr. Visyak hummed thoughtfully as she tested him.
“What’s the verdict, Ellie?” Bobby asked when she finished.
Dr. Visyak shook her head. “It’s too soon to tell, but we may have waited too long to get that bullet out. The surest cure is to operate, but even then—”
“No,” John interrupted. “Not yet. Even like this, there’s got to be some good I can still do. And it may be better in the morning. You operate, and I’ll be out of commission altogether.”
“All right, fine. I’ll come back in the morning and check on you. For now, let me fix you a sling.”
“We can do that,” said Ellen. “You’d better get back to town before McLeod decides to come after us here.”
“They haven’t gotten around to shooting women yet,” Dr. Visyak noted but took her leave anyway.
Once she was gone, John turned to Sam. “Sam, if your problem’s with a lady doctor—”
“No!” Sam yelped, blushing. “It’s—nothing like that, no. McLeod told the truth. They didn’t... they didn’t hurt me. He just....” He scrubbed a hand over his face, below his nose. “It had to do with Ma’s death. He... he showed me what he did to me that night. And he killed Ma because she interrupted him.”
Bobby looked at him narrowly. “He did it again tonight, didn’t he? And then he tested you.”
Sam ducked his head, and his shoulders slumped.
“Sam, that’s not your fault.”
“He’s right,” Ellen agreed. “Wouldn’t have been your fault if he’d hurt you, either.”
Sam huffed. “I need some coffee.” He stalked into the kitchen, Dean and Ash hard on his heels. He tried to slam the door behind him, but Dean caught it, and Ash closed it once all three of them were through.
John sighed and started to get up. He had no idea what he’d say to Sam, but he needed to say something.
But Ellen said, “John,” and he looked down to see her hand on his right shoulder. “Let him be for right now. I’ll get you that sling.”
He sighed again. “Ellen....”
“Leave it be, Leatherneck,” said Rufus. “You may be worried about losin’ him, but you go off half-cocked, you’ll lose him for sure.”
“He’s hurting.”
“And you have the potential to hurt him more,” Bobby argued. “’Til you get your head all the way around the fact that he’s a victim and your son, and not whatever the hell you think you’ve heard about ’im, you could be doin’ more harm than good.”
And the hell of it was, John knew they were right. Leaving aside the fact that he was of at least two minds about Sam, knowing he was devil-touched but seeing how miserable the knowledge made the boy... John always had had a knack for saying exactly the wrong thing to Sam when emotions were high. Besides, what solace could he give right now beyond Don’t worry, I’m not planning to kill you?
He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize Ellen had moved until she picked his arm up off his lap and eased a piece of fabric around it. Then he didn’t think much at all as he watched her work where he couldn’t feel and bent his head forward to let her tie the sling around his neck. He could feel her straighten the folds more comfortably around his neck and smooth the length over his chest, though... it made him shiver a little.
She noticed, he could tell. But all she did was squeeze his good shoulder before straightening and turning away from him. “You’d better not be plannin’ on starin’ out that window all night, Rufus Turner. Not with that concussion you’ve got.”
“Somebody has to,” Rufus returned.
“Well, I’m somebody. You rest.”
They bickered a while longer until the boys came back in, at which point Bobby declared lights out and he and Rufus escorted the other guests to the two small spare bedrooms while Ellen took over the watch. Then Rufus started to go back to the living room instead of his own bedroom, which prompted another bickering match with Bobby. Ash chuckled and Dean shook his head, and they and Sam started into one guest room.
“Sam,” John said quietly.
Sam paused and turned back to him, looking scared and worried.
John put his left hand on Sam’s shoulder, not at all sure what to say—to praise him for revealing his visions, assure him that he wasn’t at fault for what Yellow-Eyes did, or just what. What finally came out, though, was, “We’ll figure it out.”
Sam smiled a little. “Thanks, Pa.”
By the time Dr. Visyak returned the next morning, John had regained the feeling in his side but not his arm. She poked and prodded and offered again to operate, and he declined again. Even though this spell was definitely lasting far longer than any he’d had before, he was improving slowly, and he knew there’d be more trouble coming.
It came before he was ready. His arm was still dead as he and the others ate supper around sundown, but Rufus, who’d taken up his sentry position again, suddenly announced that Jimmy and Charlie were coming. Bobby sent Dean to make sure the Mills kids hadn’t been followed, and everyone else got up to go into the living room.
Jimmy greeted Rufus and John as he and Charlie walked in, rifles in hand but lowered. Then he turned to Bobby. “We need to talk to you, Sheriff.”
“What’s wrong, Jimmy?” Bobby asked.
“Lots of things,” said Charlie.
“The cattle had to be watered today,” Jimmy explained. “Ma sent Mark and a Mexican boy—and Roman’s men grabbed Mark. They sent Carlos back with a message that they’d let Mark go if Ma turns her water rights over to Roman.”
“And she’s going to,” Bobby surmised.
“What choice does she have?”
“Sheriff, you know they’re not gonna give Mark back,” Charlie chimed in.
Bobby sighed. “Roman won’t want to leave any witnesses who can testify as to how he got the deed to that water. Certainly not Mark or your ma.”
“You gotta do something.”
Dean slipped in the front door at that point. “Nobody trailin’ ’em that I can see.”
Bobby looked at Jimmy. “When is your ma supposed to meet Roman?”
“Tonight,” Jimmy replied. “Eight o’clock, his saloon. They said they’d kill Mark if anyone tried anything.”
Charlie snorted. “That’s what you said about Roman, isn’t it, Sheriff? And then you didn’t.”
Sam huffed and shook his head.
“Well, what are you gonna do now?”
“They’ve got McLeod and a bunch of gunhands,” Bobby noted, “and they’ve got your brother. Look around you. We’ve got two cripples, three green kids—”
“Green?!” Sam and Dean objected.
“—one mama bear, and one noisy old coot with a concussion.”
Rufus said something rude in Yiddish.
Bobby ignored him. “How do I know what I’m gonna do?”
Charlie sighed and looked up at John. “I guess this whole thing’s my fault. If I hadn’t shot you....”
John held up his left hand. “This is bigger than you, Charlie. Bigger than you know. Besides, I wasn’t the one in danger. Sam saw to that.”
Sam ducked his head.
“Go back and tell your ma that it’s up to her whether she gives up or not, but we’ll do what we can to get Mark out alive.”
Charlie nodded, and she and Jimmy turned to go. On their way out the door, though, Charlie caught Dean’s arm and whispered something to him, and he went outside with them.
“What are we gonna do?” Rufus asked.
Bobby threw up the hand that wasn’t holding his crutch. “I dunno. Even if we exorcise McLeod, we’d still have Roman and his men to get past. I just... I dunno.”
John had a sudden idea, though, and pulled Bobby’s revolver out of its holster. He slid the gun into the sling, above his arm, and tried drawing it from there a few times. “Have to try it with the real thing,” he murmured, putting the gun back in the sling, then turned to Sam. “Can you see it from there?”
“No, sir,” Sam replied. “I can’t—but I don’t know about Yellow-Eyes.”
“Hex bag should do for that, if there’s time,” said Rufus.
Bobby frowned. “That takes care of McLeod, but what about Roman?”
John looked around and spied Bobby’s rifle, which he’d had fitted with a bigger trigger guard/lever that would allow him to eject the spent cartridge and bring up the next round by spinning the gun on his finger. John had one just like it, though his was back at the jail. The rifle wasn’t loaded—Sam had taken out his insecurities by cleaning all the weapons in the house that afternoon but hadn’t finished reloading them all before supper—so John picked it up in his left hand, braced the barrel on his right hand, and tried dry-firing and working the rifle’s action a few times. It was awkward, but he managed it.
“Can you hit anything that way?”
“If I can get close enough.” John handed the rifle to Sam. “Load it, will you?”
“Yes, sir,” Sam replied and went to do so.
Dean came back inside at that point. “We got a plan yet?”
“Workin’ on one,” Rufus replied.
Bobby raised an eyebrow. “How will you get close enough?”
“Ride up to Roman’s in a wagon,” John answered. “You’ve got a wagon, right?”
“Yeah, great big one. Taller’n Ellen’s buckboard, anyway—higher sides, better defense.”
Now it was Ellen’s turn to frown. “Are you crazy?”
“It’s crazy enough to work,” Ash remarked.
“I got away with it,” Bobby added. “He can.”
John nodded and returned Bobby’s revolver to its holster. “They won’t think I’m any good. Dean, let me borrow that Colt.”
With a look of deep misgiving, Dean pulled the Colt out of its holster and handed it to John, who slid it into the sling.
“Could you see that from below?”
Dean crouched down, looked up, and shook his head. “No, sir.”
John nodded once and turned to Bobby. “Last time you took the front door, and I took the back. This time, let’s switch. We can leave Sam here—”
Dean stood up. “Actually, Pa, you might need cover from the jail. Bobby can wait there, stay off his leg. Rufus and Sam and I can take the back door.”
John frowned. “Dean....”
Sam snapped the rifle shut with perhaps a touch more force than necessary. “I’m not sitting this out, Pa. Get used to it.”
“We’d better get going before we think about it too much,” Rufus said to forestall an argument. “C’mon, boys. Let’s get those wagons hitched up.”
Sam handed the rifle to John, and he, Dean, and Ash left with Rufus.
“Get there just before 8, you think?” Bobby asked.
John drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah.”
“I’ll hash things out with the boys on our way into town, don’t worry. If we get in the back door and get Mark’s captors before you start shootin’, I’ll have Rufus blow on his horn.”
“And if they start shooting first?”
“Well, in that case, partner, you’re on your own.” With that, Bobby grabbed his hat and limped outside.
John sighed.
“I’ll ride with you,” Ellen told him.
“Ellen—”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“All right, but I’m dropping you off at the Roadhouse. If the Millses get to town early, I’ll need you to head ’em off.”
She nodded once. “Fair enough.”
Just then one of the wagons pulled up out front, so they went outside together just as the other pulled around beside it. Ash was driving Ellen’s buckboard, which was hitched to Sam’s horse and one of Bobby’s, but Sam had Cochise and Impala hitched to something that looked more like a freight wagon. He didn’t say anything to John when he jumped down, just gave Ellen a hand up to the seat, gave John a slight boost to get him past the wheel, and climbed into the back of the buckboard. Dean and Rufus climbed in after him while Ash slid over and relinquished the reins to Bobby. Then John hid the rifle behind the seat and started his wagon toward town, and Bobby followed.
Ellen was silent for most of the drive, keeping her eyes on the darkening countryside and waving to Bobby and the boys as the buckboard peeled off to go into town from a different angle. About the time the edge of town became visible, though, she sighed.
John figured that was as good an opening as any. “I want a hunter’s funeral, Ellen.”
“Keep talkin’ that way, and you’ll get one.”
He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She looked him in the eye. “You’ve been waiting for this showdown for twenty-two years. You’ll have your revenge and save Jody Mills into the bargain.”
“So?”
“So you’ve been talking like you don’t care about what comes after. Like this is all that’s been keepin’ you alive all these years, and now that it’s almost over, you don’t plan to live to see what’s on the other side.”
“Ellen—”
“Dammit, John, if your boys don’t give you enough to live for, what hope is there for me?!”
John’s mouth fell open. But before he could recover enough to reply, they passed the edge of town, and he needed to keep his attention on the road. So he pretended he didn’t hear her sniffle or swipe a tear off her cheek.
Once he’d stopped the wagon in front of the Roadhouse, though, he caressed her cheek with his left hand. “I can’t make any promises,” he told her quietly. “I don’t want to make you a widow twice. Just... can you ever forgive me?”
“For Bill? Truth is... I think I forgave you a long time ago.”
But whatever either of them would have said next was interrupted by the jingle of harnesses and the pounding of hoofbeats. The Millses were early.
“Stay alive, John,” Ellen ordered as she slipped down from the wagon and ran to head them off.
He didn’t have time to call anything after her. All he could do was to haul a deep breath into his suddenly tight chest and drive on to Roman’s saloon before Mrs. Mills could decide not to wait on him.
“Dean, are you sure?” Bobby asked for the fifth time as Ash unlocked the back door of the jail.
“Positive,” Dean replied. “You and Ash watch for any of Roman’s men that might try to get behind Pa. We’ll take care of the rest.”
Rufus turned to Sam. “Lemme have your throwin’ stars.”
Sam reached back and did something to the back of his belt before cautiously handing Rufus a handful of metal. “Careful with those.”
“I been to Japan, boy. I know how to use ’em.”
That was a story Dean was going to have to hear—some other time. “We’ll be fine, Bobby. You just keep an eye on Pa.”
Bobby sighed. “All right. See y’all after a while.”
Dean, Sam, and Rufus hurried quietly toward the back of Roman’s saloon but stopped short when they got close enough to see a sentry at the back door. Lamplight from the house behind the saloon fell on the sentry’s face—and his eyes were coal black from corner to corner.
Dean cursed under his breath. “Sammy—”
But suddenly there was a burst of yellow-orange light from the sentry’s head, and he fell dead. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Dean looked over at Sam to see him trying to wipe away a trickle of blood from his nose.
“Can we just go?” Sam asked quietly, unable to keep a tremor out of his voice.
“Sammy, how....”
“You don’t want to know. You really, really don’t want to know.”
Rufus gave Sam’s shoulder a rough squeeze and started toward the door, leaving the brothers to follow him. Together they slipped into the storeroom in the back of the bar, which gave them a clear view of Mark, tied up in the middle of the room where he’d be easy to see from the street if someone held the doors open. There was one gunman sitting close to him as a guard, but Roman and McLeod and most of their men were at the bar, celebrating their victory in advance.
Then they heard the creak and clatter of Pa’s wagon approaching, and Roman’s foreman Edgar came in the front door to tell McLeod that Pa was coming. McLeod ordered a couple of his men to stay with Mark, and he and Roman walked outside, followed by two other gunmen, while the rest of the men gathered around the windows and doorway.
At about that point, Mark looked toward the storeroom, and his eyes went wide when he caught sight of Dean. Dean motioned for silence—only slightly necessary, since Mark was gagged—and flashed Mark a thumbs-up, which Mark acknowledged with the barest of nods.
And then Pa pulled up outside, which meant it was showtime.
John pulled the wagon to a halt in front of Roman and McLeod. Roman’s men took up positions on either side of the pair, hands on their belts in implicit threat, but John really didn’t care.
“Wasn’t expecting you, Mr. Winchester,” said Roman.
But John ignored him. “Hello, Azazel.”
Roman started to say something, but McLeod raised a hand to cut him off and let his eyes turn. “My show, Roman. Howdy, John. Been a long time.”
Roman’s men started to look a little nervous.
“There’s a little question unanswered between us,” John stated.
“Which of us is best,” McLeod replied.
“That’s right.”
“I don’t think we’ll find out the answer.”
“No?”
“No. Your gun arm’s no good.”
John resisted the urge to look down at his sling—he didn’t dare draw attention to it now. “Just give me time to get down off this wagon, and we’ll see.”
“Why should I?”
“Call it professional courtesy.”
Roman frowned. “Don’t listen to him. Why should you give him any time?”
McLeod chuckled. “Curiosity, Roman. My better judgment tells me—”
He was cut off by a bugle blast, and both he and Roman turned to see what had happened, which gave John just enough time to whip out the Colt before McLeod could turn back around and draw. John put a bullet right between those yellow eyes, and burning from within, Azazel fell and died, taking Nelse McLeod with him. But John didn’t have time to celebrate yet. He shoved the smoking Colt back into his sling, grabbed the rifle, fired at one of the henchmen, and leapt off the wagon as Cochise and Impala took their cue and sped away. By the time the wagon was out of the way, most of the gunmen had either scattered or been shot by Bobby, Rufus, or Dean, which left John with a clear shot at Roman. He took that shot three times as he stood up...
... but the wounds bled black, and Roman barely seemed to feel them. Rather, with a smirk, he grabbed one of McLeod’s guns and fired at John, and John screamed and fell as the bullet tore into his right hip and shattered the bone. When he looked up again, Roman was striding toward him, chuckling.
“Hunters,” Roman said contemptuously. “Think you know everything, don’t you, Winchester? Well, you can’t stop me—but I’m sure as hell going to stop you.” He aimed the revolver straight at John’s heart and thumbed back the hammer.
Then John heard the report of a shotgun from behind him somewhere, and Roman’s eyes went wide in shock as two twelve-gauge holes appeared straight over his heart, burning like silver in a shifter or were. He staggered back against a post as Charlie ran up beside John, shotgun still at the ready. But she didn’t need it, because every heartbeat seemed to increase Roman’s agony. After a few moments more, his back arched as his head fell back... and his mouth grew to a gaping, sharp-toothed maw that obscured the rest of his face, a long, forked black tongue flailing as he screamed. Charlie gasped in horror and nearly dropped her gun.
And suddenly Jimmy appeared beside Roman with a silver sword in his hand, which he used to chop off that monstrous head before... disappearing again.
Rufus and the boys ran out of the saloon, with Mark right behind them, at the same time Bobby and Ash arrived from the jail. “What the hell—” Dean began.
But he was cut off by Jimmy’s reappearance. Both the sword and the head were gone, but John barely had time to register that before Jimmy knelt beside him and touched his forehead. Some kind of power surged through John, and when it faded... so did the pain in his hip and the numbness in his arm. Jimmy helped John to his feet, and when he looked back, John could see two bullets on the ground, one in the pool of blood that had come from his hip, the other where the middle of his back had lain.
“Fear not,” Jimmy said, his voice about an octave lower than usual, as John stared at him. “The Leviathan’s head can no longer return to its body. Dick Roman is dead.”
Charlie was shaking. “Jimmy, what the hell—”
Jimmy smiled. “Oh, no. Quite the opposite. And I’m not Jimmy at present.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Castiel. I’m an angel of the Lord.” And the lanterns suddenly flared brightly enough to show the shadow of wings stretching out from Jimmy’s back.
Everyone was dumbstruck for a moment before Charlie found her voice again. “Um. Wh-ho-how do you know....”
“I threw the head into Mauna Loa—that’s a volcano. Even if the head should survive that and find its way back here, the solid borax slugs Dr. Visyak directed you to make will continue to poison the body until it is completely destroyed.”
“Dr. Visyak?” Bobby echoed.
Jimmy—er, Castiel nodded. “She was an old enemy of Roman’s.”
John finally found his voice, sort of. “Why?” was all that came out.
Castiel tilted Jimmy’s head and looked at John with a slight confused frown and an unblinking stare that was unsettling coming from Jimmy’s intensely blue eyes. “Why what?”
“Why... this? Why help? Why now?”
Castiel’s face cleared. “My family has done yours a great disservice, John Winchester.”
John shook his head. “Mrs. Mills—”
“That’s Jimmy’s family, though he and Charlie also feel they owed you. Mine has wronged you more gravely. Certain of my brothers were complicit in Azazel’s plans for your sons, especially for Sam. They would not allow me to save Mary or Jess. But they could not stop me from saving you.” Before John could come up with a response to that, there was a blinding flash, and when it faded, Jimmy was gasping and swaying dangerously.
“Hey, whoa,” Rufus said, hurrying to steady him. “You all right, boy?”
“Uh,” Jimmy replied, nodding. “F-feel like I been... chained to a comet.”
John felt somewhat the same way.
He was still trying to halfway process what had just happened when Ellen and the rest of the Mills family ran up. “Charlie,” Mrs. Mills barked, “I thought I told you to stay out of this!”
“This is one time I’m glad she didn’t,” John replied, amazed he was able to be coherent at all. Then he looked at Charlie, who was white as a sheet but had stood her ground the whole time. “Much obliged, Charlie.”
Charlie shrugged a little. “I owed you one.”
“Ma,” Mark choked out from the boardwalk.
Mrs. Mills drew a ragged breath and jogged over to pull him into a hug.
Ellen put a hand on John’s right arm, and he could feel it. “C’mon,” she said quietly. “It’s over.”
He pulled himself together enough to give the Colt back to Dean and pull his arm out of the sling he no longer needed, then let Ellen steer him back to the jail and just sit for a few minutes, long enough for the undertaker and his crew to come take care of the bodies. He didn’t know how long it was, just... a while. But then she rousted him out to walk with her, arm in arm, back to the Roadhouse, passing throngs of happy people as they went. A whole gaggle of ladies was standing around in the street in front of the Roadhouse, laughing and talking with Bess Mills and Jimmy’s wife, Amelia; Bobby and Jody Mills were sitting on one bench sharing a sarsaparilla, and Rufus and Dr. Visyak were sitting on another sharing a beer. And when John and Ellen walked inside, they spotted Mrs. Mills’ four kids all sitting around a table with Sam, Dean, and Ash, talking animatedly but quietly.
“C’mon,” Ellen said, tugging at John’s arm a little. “Let me fix you something to eat.”
So he followed her into the kitchen, though he kept his eye on the kids.
“Y’know,” she said as she got him a plate and started dishing food onto it, “there’s a big reward out for McLeod—$5,000, I think. Might be enough to buy the Roman place.”
He shook his head. “Let Dean have it. All he’s ever wanted is a home of his own. Sam could keep the books for him. Hell, Dean might even marry. Charlie, maybe?”
She snorted. “Not likely. Charlie’s one of the boys.” She paused. “Although....”
“What?”
“Found a telegram when I got back tonight. Jo’s comin’ home. Jim said she just couldn’t take polite society back East anymore.”
He smiled. “Can’t blame her. And wouldn’t object.”
She put the plate in front of him and looked him in the eye. “That takes care of the boys. What about you?”
“How do you mean?”
She hooked a finger behind the lapel of his vest, making the badge catch the light... and making his heart race a bit. “You swore an oath to protect this town.”
“Ellen, I don’t... owning a saloon... I don’t know.”
“My girls aren’t on the menu, and neither am I. I employ them to serve food and drinks—and nothing more.”
“And who makes sure of that?” he asked before he could stop himself. “Ash?”
Her eyebrows rose. “Why, John Winchester, whatever are you implying?”
He hesitated, but only for a second, and was surprised at how sure he was of his answer. “That maybe it’s time my gun wasn’t on the menu anymore, either.”
“Oh, I dunno, John,” she teased. “People might say we don’t need your kind around here.”
“Let ’em,” he rumbled and kissed her.
Ride, Boldly Ride
The ride out to Bobby’s ranch was far too uneventful, which left Rufus on edge. But Bobby and John were in no fit state to object to McLeod’s seeming mercy; Sam was too torn up over whatever the demon had done to him in that hour he was missing to even notice; and Dean and Ellen were too busy worrying about everyone else. So was Ash when he arrived a few minutes later with Dr. Visyak. Rufus therefore took it upon himself to stand watch at the living room window.
For her part, the good doctor quickly checked Rufus’ head and Bobby’s leg and declared herself satisfied with the state of both. She offered to look at Sam next, but he declined.
“Are you sure?” she pressed. “You act like you’ve just come from the front.”
Sam shook his head. “It’s not the kind of thing I need a doctor for. Thanks, though. Just... Pa’s the one who needs your help.”
John had regained the use of his leg by this point, but the entire right side of his torso was still numb, and his right arm was lifeless. Dr. Visyak hummed thoughtfully as she tested him.
“What’s the verdict, Ellie?” Bobby asked when she finished.
Dr. Visyak shook her head. “It’s too soon to tell, but we may have waited too long to get that bullet out. The surest cure is to operate, but even then—”
“No,” John interrupted. “Not yet. Even like this, there’s got to be some good I can still do. And it may be better in the morning. You operate, and I’ll be out of commission altogether.”
“All right, fine. I’ll come back in the morning and check on you. For now, let me fix you a sling.”
“We can do that,” said Ellen. “You’d better get back to town before McLeod decides to come after us here.”
“They haven’t gotten around to shooting women yet,” Dr. Visyak noted but took her leave anyway.
Once she was gone, John turned to Sam. “Sam, if your problem’s with a lady doctor—”
“No!” Sam yelped, blushing. “It’s—nothing like that, no. McLeod told the truth. They didn’t... they didn’t hurt me. He just....” He scrubbed a hand over his face, below his nose. “It had to do with Ma’s death. He... he showed me what he did to me that night. And he killed Ma because she interrupted him.”
Bobby looked at him narrowly. “He did it again tonight, didn’t he? And then he tested you.”
Sam ducked his head, and his shoulders slumped.
“Sam, that’s not your fault.”
“He’s right,” Ellen agreed. “Wouldn’t have been your fault if he’d hurt you, either.”
Sam huffed. “I need some coffee.” He stalked into the kitchen, Dean and Ash hard on his heels. He tried to slam the door behind him, but Dean caught it, and Ash closed it once all three of them were through.
John sighed and started to get up. He had no idea what he’d say to Sam, but he needed to say something.
But Ellen said, “John,” and he looked down to see her hand on his right shoulder. “Let him be for right now. I’ll get you that sling.”
He sighed again. “Ellen....”
“Leave it be, Leatherneck,” said Rufus. “You may be worried about losin’ him, but you go off half-cocked, you’ll lose him for sure.”
“He’s hurting.”
“And you have the potential to hurt him more,” Bobby argued. “’Til you get your head all the way around the fact that he’s a victim and your son, and not whatever the hell you think you’ve heard about ’im, you could be doin’ more harm than good.”
And the hell of it was, John knew they were right. Leaving aside the fact that he was of at least two minds about Sam, knowing he was devil-touched but seeing how miserable the knowledge made the boy... John always had had a knack for saying exactly the wrong thing to Sam when emotions were high. Besides, what solace could he give right now beyond Don’t worry, I’m not planning to kill you?
He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize Ellen had moved until she picked his arm up off his lap and eased a piece of fabric around it. Then he didn’t think much at all as he watched her work where he couldn’t feel and bent his head forward to let her tie the sling around his neck. He could feel her straighten the folds more comfortably around his neck and smooth the length over his chest, though... it made him shiver a little.
She noticed, he could tell. But all she did was squeeze his good shoulder before straightening and turning away from him. “You’d better not be plannin’ on starin’ out that window all night, Rufus Turner. Not with that concussion you’ve got.”
“Somebody has to,” Rufus returned.
“Well, I’m somebody. You rest.”
They bickered a while longer until the boys came back in, at which point Bobby declared lights out and he and Rufus escorted the other guests to the two small spare bedrooms while Ellen took over the watch. Then Rufus started to go back to the living room instead of his own bedroom, which prompted another bickering match with Bobby. Ash chuckled and Dean shook his head, and they and Sam started into one guest room.
“Sam,” John said quietly.
Sam paused and turned back to him, looking scared and worried.
John put his left hand on Sam’s shoulder, not at all sure what to say—to praise him for revealing his visions, assure him that he wasn’t at fault for what Yellow-Eyes did, or just what. What finally came out, though, was, “We’ll figure it out.”
Sam smiled a little. “Thanks, Pa.”
By the time Dr. Visyak returned the next morning, John had regained the feeling in his side but not his arm. She poked and prodded and offered again to operate, and he declined again. Even though this spell was definitely lasting far longer than any he’d had before, he was improving slowly, and he knew there’d be more trouble coming.
It came before he was ready. His arm was still dead as he and the others ate supper around sundown, but Rufus, who’d taken up his sentry position again, suddenly announced that Jimmy and Charlie were coming. Bobby sent Dean to make sure the Mills kids hadn’t been followed, and everyone else got up to go into the living room.
Jimmy greeted Rufus and John as he and Charlie walked in, rifles in hand but lowered. Then he turned to Bobby. “We need to talk to you, Sheriff.”
“What’s wrong, Jimmy?” Bobby asked.
“Lots of things,” said Charlie.
“The cattle had to be watered today,” Jimmy explained. “Ma sent Mark and a Mexican boy—and Roman’s men grabbed Mark. They sent Carlos back with a message that they’d let Mark go if Ma turns her water rights over to Roman.”
“And she’s going to,” Bobby surmised.
“What choice does she have?”
“Sheriff, you know they’re not gonna give Mark back,” Charlie chimed in.
Bobby sighed. “Roman won’t want to leave any witnesses who can testify as to how he got the deed to that water. Certainly not Mark or your ma.”
“You gotta do something.”
Dean slipped in the front door at that point. “Nobody trailin’ ’em that I can see.”
Bobby looked at Jimmy. “When is your ma supposed to meet Roman?”
“Tonight,” Jimmy replied. “Eight o’clock, his saloon. They said they’d kill Mark if anyone tried anything.”
Charlie snorted. “That’s what you said about Roman, isn’t it, Sheriff? And then you didn’t.”
Sam huffed and shook his head.
“Well, what are you gonna do now?”
“They’ve got McLeod and a bunch of gunhands,” Bobby noted, “and they’ve got your brother. Look around you. We’ve got two cripples, three green kids—”
“Green?!” Sam and Dean objected.
“—one mama bear, and one noisy old coot with a concussion.”
Rufus said something rude in Yiddish.
Bobby ignored him. “How do I know what I’m gonna do?”
Charlie sighed and looked up at John. “I guess this whole thing’s my fault. If I hadn’t shot you....”
John held up his left hand. “This is bigger than you, Charlie. Bigger than you know. Besides, I wasn’t the one in danger. Sam saw to that.”
Sam ducked his head.
“Go back and tell your ma that it’s up to her whether she gives up or not, but we’ll do what we can to get Mark out alive.”
Charlie nodded, and she and Jimmy turned to go. On their way out the door, though, Charlie caught Dean’s arm and whispered something to him, and he went outside with them.
“What are we gonna do?” Rufus asked.
Bobby threw up the hand that wasn’t holding his crutch. “I dunno. Even if we exorcise McLeod, we’d still have Roman and his men to get past. I just... I dunno.”
John had a sudden idea, though, and pulled Bobby’s revolver out of its holster. He slid the gun into the sling, above his arm, and tried drawing it from there a few times. “Have to try it with the real thing,” he murmured, putting the gun back in the sling, then turned to Sam. “Can you see it from there?”
“No, sir,” Sam replied. “I can’t—but I don’t know about Yellow-Eyes.”
“Hex bag should do for that, if there’s time,” said Rufus.
Bobby frowned. “That takes care of McLeod, but what about Roman?”
John looked around and spied Bobby’s rifle, which he’d had fitted with a bigger trigger guard/lever that would allow him to eject the spent cartridge and bring up the next round by spinning the gun on his finger. John had one just like it, though his was back at the jail. The rifle wasn’t loaded—Sam had taken out his insecurities by cleaning all the weapons in the house that afternoon but hadn’t finished reloading them all before supper—so John picked it up in his left hand, braced the barrel on his right hand, and tried dry-firing and working the rifle’s action a few times. It was awkward, but he managed it.
“Can you hit anything that way?”
“If I can get close enough.” John handed the rifle to Sam. “Load it, will you?”
“Yes, sir,” Sam replied and went to do so.
Dean came back inside at that point. “We got a plan yet?”
“Workin’ on one,” Rufus replied.
Bobby raised an eyebrow. “How will you get close enough?”
“Ride up to Roman’s in a wagon,” John answered. “You’ve got a wagon, right?”
“Yeah, great big one. Taller’n Ellen’s buckboard, anyway—higher sides, better defense.”
Now it was Ellen’s turn to frown. “Are you crazy?”
“It’s crazy enough to work,” Ash remarked.
“I got away with it,” Bobby added. “He can.”
John nodded and returned Bobby’s revolver to its holster. “They won’t think I’m any good. Dean, let me borrow that Colt.”
With a look of deep misgiving, Dean pulled the Colt out of its holster and handed it to John, who slid it into the sling.
“Could you see that from below?”
Dean crouched down, looked up, and shook his head. “No, sir.”
John nodded once and turned to Bobby. “Last time you took the front door, and I took the back. This time, let’s switch. We can leave Sam here—”
Dean stood up. “Actually, Pa, you might need cover from the jail. Bobby can wait there, stay off his leg. Rufus and Sam and I can take the back door.”
John frowned. “Dean....”
Sam snapped the rifle shut with perhaps a touch more force than necessary. “I’m not sitting this out, Pa. Get used to it.”
“We’d better get going before we think about it too much,” Rufus said to forestall an argument. “C’mon, boys. Let’s get those wagons hitched up.”
Sam handed the rifle to John, and he, Dean, and Ash left with Rufus.
“Get there just before 8, you think?” Bobby asked.
John drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah.”
“I’ll hash things out with the boys on our way into town, don’t worry. If we get in the back door and get Mark’s captors before you start shootin’, I’ll have Rufus blow on his horn.”
“And if they start shooting first?”
“Well, in that case, partner, you’re on your own.” With that, Bobby grabbed his hat and limped outside.
John sighed.
“I’ll ride with you,” Ellen told him.
“Ellen—”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“All right, but I’m dropping you off at the Roadhouse. If the Millses get to town early, I’ll need you to head ’em off.”
She nodded once. “Fair enough.”
Just then one of the wagons pulled up out front, so they went outside together just as the other pulled around beside it. Ash was driving Ellen’s buckboard, which was hitched to Sam’s horse and one of Bobby’s, but Sam had Cochise and Impala hitched to something that looked more like a freight wagon. He didn’t say anything to John when he jumped down, just gave Ellen a hand up to the seat, gave John a slight boost to get him past the wheel, and climbed into the back of the buckboard. Dean and Rufus climbed in after him while Ash slid over and relinquished the reins to Bobby. Then John hid the rifle behind the seat and started his wagon toward town, and Bobby followed.
Ellen was silent for most of the drive, keeping her eyes on the darkening countryside and waving to Bobby and the boys as the buckboard peeled off to go into town from a different angle. About the time the edge of town became visible, though, she sighed.
John figured that was as good an opening as any. “I want a hunter’s funeral, Ellen.”
“Keep talkin’ that way, and you’ll get one.”
He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She looked him in the eye. “You’ve been waiting for this showdown for twenty-two years. You’ll have your revenge and save Jody Mills into the bargain.”
“So?”
“So you’ve been talking like you don’t care about what comes after. Like this is all that’s been keepin’ you alive all these years, and now that it’s almost over, you don’t plan to live to see what’s on the other side.”
“Ellen—”
“Dammit, John, if your boys don’t give you enough to live for, what hope is there for me?!”
John’s mouth fell open. But before he could recover enough to reply, they passed the edge of town, and he needed to keep his attention on the road. So he pretended he didn’t hear her sniffle or swipe a tear off her cheek.
Once he’d stopped the wagon in front of the Roadhouse, though, he caressed her cheek with his left hand. “I can’t make any promises,” he told her quietly. “I don’t want to make you a widow twice. Just... can you ever forgive me?”
“For Bill? Truth is... I think I forgave you a long time ago.”
But whatever either of them would have said next was interrupted by the jingle of harnesses and the pounding of hoofbeats. The Millses were early.
“Stay alive, John,” Ellen ordered as she slipped down from the wagon and ran to head them off.
He didn’t have time to call anything after her. All he could do was to haul a deep breath into his suddenly tight chest and drive on to Roman’s saloon before Mrs. Mills could decide not to wait on him.
“Dean, are you sure?” Bobby asked for the fifth time as Ash unlocked the back door of the jail.
“Positive,” Dean replied. “You and Ash watch for any of Roman’s men that might try to get behind Pa. We’ll take care of the rest.”
Rufus turned to Sam. “Lemme have your throwin’ stars.”
Sam reached back and did something to the back of his belt before cautiously handing Rufus a handful of metal. “Careful with those.”
“I been to Japan, boy. I know how to use ’em.”
That was a story Dean was going to have to hear—some other time. “We’ll be fine, Bobby. You just keep an eye on Pa.”
Bobby sighed. “All right. See y’all after a while.”
Dean, Sam, and Rufus hurried quietly toward the back of Roman’s saloon but stopped short when they got close enough to see a sentry at the back door. Lamplight from the house behind the saloon fell on the sentry’s face—and his eyes were coal black from corner to corner.
Dean cursed under his breath. “Sammy—”
But suddenly there was a burst of yellow-orange light from the sentry’s head, and he fell dead. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Dean looked over at Sam to see him trying to wipe away a trickle of blood from his nose.
“Can we just go?” Sam asked quietly, unable to keep a tremor out of his voice.
“Sammy, how....”
“You don’t want to know. You really, really don’t want to know.”
Rufus gave Sam’s shoulder a rough squeeze and started toward the door, leaving the brothers to follow him. Together they slipped into the storeroom in the back of the bar, which gave them a clear view of Mark, tied up in the middle of the room where he’d be easy to see from the street if someone held the doors open. There was one gunman sitting close to him as a guard, but Roman and McLeod and most of their men were at the bar, celebrating their victory in advance.
Then they heard the creak and clatter of Pa’s wagon approaching, and Roman’s foreman Edgar came in the front door to tell McLeod that Pa was coming. McLeod ordered a couple of his men to stay with Mark, and he and Roman walked outside, followed by two other gunmen, while the rest of the men gathered around the windows and doorway.
At about that point, Mark looked toward the storeroom, and his eyes went wide when he caught sight of Dean. Dean motioned for silence—only slightly necessary, since Mark was gagged—and flashed Mark a thumbs-up, which Mark acknowledged with the barest of nods.
And then Pa pulled up outside, which meant it was showtime.
John pulled the wagon to a halt in front of Roman and McLeod. Roman’s men took up positions on either side of the pair, hands on their belts in implicit threat, but John really didn’t care.
“Wasn’t expecting you, Mr. Winchester,” said Roman.
But John ignored him. “Hello, Azazel.”
Roman started to say something, but McLeod raised a hand to cut him off and let his eyes turn. “My show, Roman. Howdy, John. Been a long time.”
Roman’s men started to look a little nervous.
“There’s a little question unanswered between us,” John stated.
“Which of us is best,” McLeod replied.
“That’s right.”
“I don’t think we’ll find out the answer.”
“No?”
“No. Your gun arm’s no good.”
John resisted the urge to look down at his sling—he didn’t dare draw attention to it now. “Just give me time to get down off this wagon, and we’ll see.”
“Why should I?”
“Call it professional courtesy.”
Roman frowned. “Don’t listen to him. Why should you give him any time?”
McLeod chuckled. “Curiosity, Roman. My better judgment tells me—”
He was cut off by a bugle blast, and both he and Roman turned to see what had happened, which gave John just enough time to whip out the Colt before McLeod could turn back around and draw. John put a bullet right between those yellow eyes, and burning from within, Azazel fell and died, taking Nelse McLeod with him. But John didn’t have time to celebrate yet. He shoved the smoking Colt back into his sling, grabbed the rifle, fired at one of the henchmen, and leapt off the wagon as Cochise and Impala took their cue and sped away. By the time the wagon was out of the way, most of the gunmen had either scattered or been shot by Bobby, Rufus, or Dean, which left John with a clear shot at Roman. He took that shot three times as he stood up...
... but the wounds bled black, and Roman barely seemed to feel them. Rather, with a smirk, he grabbed one of McLeod’s guns and fired at John, and John screamed and fell as the bullet tore into his right hip and shattered the bone. When he looked up again, Roman was striding toward him, chuckling.
“Hunters,” Roman said contemptuously. “Think you know everything, don’t you, Winchester? Well, you can’t stop me—but I’m sure as hell going to stop you.” He aimed the revolver straight at John’s heart and thumbed back the hammer.
Then John heard the report of a shotgun from behind him somewhere, and Roman’s eyes went wide in shock as two twelve-gauge holes appeared straight over his heart, burning like silver in a shifter or were. He staggered back against a post as Charlie ran up beside John, shotgun still at the ready. But she didn’t need it, because every heartbeat seemed to increase Roman’s agony. After a few moments more, his back arched as his head fell back... and his mouth grew to a gaping, sharp-toothed maw that obscured the rest of his face, a long, forked black tongue flailing as he screamed. Charlie gasped in horror and nearly dropped her gun.
And suddenly Jimmy appeared beside Roman with a silver sword in his hand, which he used to chop off that monstrous head before... disappearing again.
Rufus and the boys ran out of the saloon, with Mark right behind them, at the same time Bobby and Ash arrived from the jail. “What the hell—” Dean began.
But he was cut off by Jimmy’s reappearance. Both the sword and the head were gone, but John barely had time to register that before Jimmy knelt beside him and touched his forehead. Some kind of power surged through John, and when it faded... so did the pain in his hip and the numbness in his arm. Jimmy helped John to his feet, and when he looked back, John could see two bullets on the ground, one in the pool of blood that had come from his hip, the other where the middle of his back had lain.
“Fear not,” Jimmy said, his voice about an octave lower than usual, as John stared at him. “The Leviathan’s head can no longer return to its body. Dick Roman is dead.”
Charlie was shaking. “Jimmy, what the hell—”
Jimmy smiled. “Oh, no. Quite the opposite. And I’m not Jimmy at present.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Castiel. I’m an angel of the Lord.” And the lanterns suddenly flared brightly enough to show the shadow of wings stretching out from Jimmy’s back.
Everyone was dumbstruck for a moment before Charlie found her voice again. “Um. Wh-ho-how do you know....”
“I threw the head into Mauna Loa—that’s a volcano. Even if the head should survive that and find its way back here, the solid borax slugs Dr. Visyak directed you to make will continue to poison the body until it is completely destroyed.”
“Dr. Visyak?” Bobby echoed.
Jimmy—er, Castiel nodded. “She was an old enemy of Roman’s.”
John finally found his voice, sort of. “Why?” was all that came out.
Castiel tilted Jimmy’s head and looked at John with a slight confused frown and an unblinking stare that was unsettling coming from Jimmy’s intensely blue eyes. “Why what?”
“Why... this? Why help? Why now?”
Castiel’s face cleared. “My family has done yours a great disservice, John Winchester.”
John shook his head. “Mrs. Mills—”
“That’s Jimmy’s family, though he and Charlie also feel they owed you. Mine has wronged you more gravely. Certain of my brothers were complicit in Azazel’s plans for your sons, especially for Sam. They would not allow me to save Mary or Jess. But they could not stop me from saving you.” Before John could come up with a response to that, there was a blinding flash, and when it faded, Jimmy was gasping and swaying dangerously.
“Hey, whoa,” Rufus said, hurrying to steady him. “You all right, boy?”
“Uh,” Jimmy replied, nodding. “F-feel like I been... chained to a comet.”
John felt somewhat the same way.
He was still trying to halfway process what had just happened when Ellen and the rest of the Mills family ran up. “Charlie,” Mrs. Mills barked, “I thought I told you to stay out of this!”
“This is one time I’m glad she didn’t,” John replied, amazed he was able to be coherent at all. Then he looked at Charlie, who was white as a sheet but had stood her ground the whole time. “Much obliged, Charlie.”
Charlie shrugged a little. “I owed you one.”
“Ma,” Mark choked out from the boardwalk.
Mrs. Mills drew a ragged breath and jogged over to pull him into a hug.
Ellen put a hand on John’s right arm, and he could feel it. “C’mon,” she said quietly. “It’s over.”
He pulled himself together enough to give the Colt back to Dean and pull his arm out of the sling he no longer needed, then let Ellen steer him back to the jail and just sit for a few minutes, long enough for the undertaker and his crew to come take care of the bodies. He didn’t know how long it was, just... a while. But then she rousted him out to walk with her, arm in arm, back to the Roadhouse, passing throngs of happy people as they went. A whole gaggle of ladies was standing around in the street in front of the Roadhouse, laughing and talking with Bess Mills and Jimmy’s wife, Amelia; Bobby and Jody Mills were sitting on one bench sharing a sarsaparilla, and Rufus and Dr. Visyak were sitting on another sharing a beer. And when John and Ellen walked inside, they spotted Mrs. Mills’ four kids all sitting around a table with Sam, Dean, and Ash, talking animatedly but quietly.
“C’mon,” Ellen said, tugging at John’s arm a little. “Let me fix you something to eat.”
So he followed her into the kitchen, though he kept his eye on the kids.
“Y’know,” she said as she got him a plate and started dishing food onto it, “there’s a big reward out for McLeod—$5,000, I think. Might be enough to buy the Roman place.”
He shook his head. “Let Dean have it. All he’s ever wanted is a home of his own. Sam could keep the books for him. Hell, Dean might even marry. Charlie, maybe?”
She snorted. “Not likely. Charlie’s one of the boys.” She paused. “Although....”
“What?”
“Found a telegram when I got back tonight. Jo’s comin’ home. Jim said she just couldn’t take polite society back East anymore.”
He smiled. “Can’t blame her. And wouldn’t object.”
She put the plate in front of him and looked him in the eye. “That takes care of the boys. What about you?”
“How do you mean?”
She hooked a finger behind the lapel of his vest, making the badge catch the light... and making his heart race a bit. “You swore an oath to protect this town.”
“Ellen, I don’t... owning a saloon... I don’t know.”
“My girls aren’t on the menu, and neither am I. I employ them to serve food and drinks—and nothing more.”
“And who makes sure of that?” he asked before he could stop himself. “Ash?”
Her eyebrows rose. “Why, John Winchester, whatever are you implying?”
He hesitated, but only for a second, and was surprised at how sure he was of his answer. “That maybe it’s time my gun wasn’t on the menu anymore, either.”
“Oh, I dunno, John,” she teased. “People might say we don’t need your kind around here.”
“Let ’em,” he rumbled and kissed her.
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