Creative Imperative

TITLE: Cry Wolf (Part Nine)
SERIES: Cry Wolf can be considered a sequel to my SPN fic Family Values but it's not necessary to read that first.
RATING: Adults Only
FANDOM: The Sentinel/Supernatural Crossover
CATEGORY: Crossover, Horror...see story notes.
PAIRINGS: Jim/Blair, Dean/Sam, Dean/OFC

Previous Chapters: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight

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Cry Wolf

Part Nine

Jim with help, or hindrance, from Blair, dragged the Leannan Sidhe's body from the ruins of the cottage. Sam insisted the sidhe was immortal but her body was a dead weight. Jim gripped her upper arm and shoulder; Blair bit into her other shoulder and together they dragged her out of the cottage. Between them, her head rolled back, giving Jim a view of the mess Blair made of her throat. Her neck was broken, bone gleaming white through torn flesh.

Jim heard her heart beat and almost dropped her. Shit! He didn't understand how, but she was alive.

It was then that the horses went wild.

Jim had forgotten that that horses were terrified of Blair. Sam's horse was tied securely to the lowest branch of a tree, but Jim had left his mare free to graze; he knew she wouldn't wander far. But Blair's presence was too much for them both. Neighing and whining filled the air. Jim dropped Erin's body and ran to the mare. He caught her reins just as she reared and tossed her head, preparing to bolt.

"Whoa! Whoa, girl! It's okay." Jim got a firm grip on the bridle, wrapping the reins around his wrist. He kept talking, soft nonsense words to calm her down. He heard the other horse calm a little and stroked the mare's neck.

When she finally settled, Jim looked for Blair. The wolf sat on his haunches some distance up the snow-covered track. His mouth was open, his long, pink tongue lolling out. It looked like he was laughing.

"You... Son of a..." Jim was torn between anger and laughter. "You did that on purpose!" he accused the wolf.

Blair barked and bounded away up the track.

Jim petted the mare a bit longer, making sure she was okay, then he went back to pick up the sidhe's body. Struggling a little, he hauled the body up to rest across the mare's rump. He'd brought a length of rope and tied her down quickly. Then he climbed up into the saddle.

Jim looked back at the derelict cottage. He heard their voices:

"Dean. Stop."

"Sammy? Oh, god...what's happening?"

He should go back. Whatever was happening in there, it wasn't right.

Blair was heading up to the mine, expecting Jim to follow. Stopping the murders was Jim's priority, and that meant putting Erin somewhere she couldn't hurt anyone again. With a last look back at the cottage, Jim urged his horse forward.

*****

Morning

Inside the abandoned mine it was utterly dark. The air was good, though the smell of damp and rust was strong. Dean settled the shotgun across his knees and lifted the flashlight again. He played the beam across Erin's body.

When Dean first saw what was left of Erin, he understood why Sam hadn't been worried about leaving Jim alone with her. The werewolf had torn out her throat and a big chunk of her belly; if she were mortal, she'd be very dead. But Dean could hear the whistle of air through her ruined neck. Her heart was still beating, her lungs still working. It was horrible to see.

She would heal. They didn't know how quickly, or what might happen when she did. Jim led them into the mine, to the place where she'd been bound before. Now she was in the iron cage, but the cage alone wouldn't hold her for long. Sam insisted she couldn't be killed. She was immortal. Dean wanted to test that theory, but Sam seemed very sure. They couldn't kill her, so they needed to bind her. Not bind her with rope, but with magic. There was a ritual that was supposed to make it impossible for her to leave the mine. So Dean stood guard while Sam and Blair searched for the binding ritual they needed.

Sam hadn't wanted to leave Dean here, as if Dean was gonna give her a second chance to screw him over. He wasn't that dumb...and he needed to do this. Needed to prove to himself that he could. He was free of her and he was gonna stay that way.

His eyes free of Erin's glamour, Dean wondered how he had ever thought her beautiful. Her skin was grey-white: corpse white, except around her eyes, where it was darker. With her eyes closed her mouth was slack, her lips dark red. She looked like a skeletal, gothic clown. He moved the flashlight slowly down her body. He remembered Jim's description of Jean Marsden's body and looked at her hands. Her fingers were long and thin, each one ending not in a human fingernail but in a long, thin, white claw.

All the better to rip your heart out with, Grandma. Dean understood her MO now. She preyed on men when she could, keeping each one alive as long as they tasted good. She picked strangers, tourists, who wouldn't be missed in the same way as locals. When she used each man up, she killed him with those claws, always at the full moon so if anyone came looking for a supernatural killer, they would suspect the werewolf, not her. And in winter, when there were no tourists to enslave, she killed and fed on her victims' blood instead of sex, like settling for bread and butter when you'd prefer a juicy steak. Dean guessed she'd been attracted to Jean Marsden's sexual energy: Blair told them she'd been walking home from her boyfriend's place...it wasn't hard to translate. Poor kid. But Dean would make sure she killed no one else.

He turned away, training the flashlight over the walls of the cavern. He could see the symbols painted on both sides of the tunnel. Some he recognised: a pentacle, ancient symbols for salt and iron. Most he didn't know, and some were too faint for him to make them out in the darkness. He got up and walked over to the wall, touching the pentacle with one hand. Dark paint against dark rock; it was impossible to tell if there was something special about the paint.

He turned the light to the cage again. As Dean shone the light into her face, Erin opened her fire-green eyes. Her throat was almost fully healed, only a slight bruising to show where ragged, bloody skin had been a few moments before. Erin raised her hand as Dean watched and suddenly there was light: a softly glowing ball hovering above her. Erin smiled at him, revealing small, sharp teeth.

"Dean. My Dean." Her voice was a low, sexy growl.

But Dean would not let her fool him again. He'd hurt Sam because of her. "Not yours, bitch," he answered harshly.

Erin sat up gracefully, turning to face him. A moment before, Dean had been gazing at the wounds on her nude body; suddenly she was clothed. She wore ordinary clothing: a scoop-necked top in deep green that clung to her body, showing off her small breasts; black denim pants, leather boots. Gold glittered at her ears, and her wrist. The shine drew his eyes to her hands; they looked human, pink nail polish on human-looking nails. Erin's skin had lost its pallor, and when Dean looked at her face again he saw her features were human: the lovely face he'd fallen for.

She frowned at him, an artful expression. "That's not very nice."

"It wasn't meant to be nice." Dean answered.

"Oh, come on. We had fun, didn't we?"

Fun? That's fun? "You tried to kill me, sweetheart."

She looked surprised. "Kill you? Hardly that, my love." Erin licked her lips, leaning forward, closer to the bars of her cage. "I just took a little taste."

"Yeah? Well, I hope I tasted good, darlin', because that's the last you're getting for a long time."

She wrapped her arms around her knees, turning her face up to look at the roof of the cage. For the first time, she looked scared. "You shouldn't be like this. You should be in love with me. How is this possible?"

Dean didn't answer.

Erin stood, moving close to the bars. She looked into Dean's eyes. "You tasted wonderful, my love. It is a thousand years since a true hero came to me as a willing sacrifice." He watched her eyes become soft and when she spoke again, it was quietly. "You look upon me as a monster, my love, but once men came eagerly to my bed. They fought for the honour."

Dean returned her look defiantly. "And you killed them. All of them. Some honour." Erin had no hold on him now, thank god. No...thank Sammy. He owed his brother, big time.

"Your brother?" Erin exclaimed. "Oh, Dean. I should have tried that threesome."

"I never offered it."

She gripped the bars with both hands like a prisoner in an old Western. "You must know this cage won't hold me for long."

"I know it held you here for fifty years. We're gonna bind you in here again."

Her eyes went wide, and Dean recognised fear. "Dean, no. Please. You can't."

"Watch me."

"No! Kill me if you must, but don't leave me here to starve! Dean, I was just trying to survive. I have a right to live, just as you do."

Dean laughed bitterly. "Oh, sweetheart, have you got the wrong guy."

"You cannot be so cruel, my love."

Dean cocked the shotgun and stalked toward the cage. "You kill people. It's my job to stop it. Now shut the fuck up."

"You came to me willingly, Dean. You knew what I am and still you made love to me."

"Shut up," he repeated. What he wanted to say was it wasn't "making love"; it was rape. But he couldn't bring himself to use that word.

Erin dropped to her knees. "Don't leave me trapped here. I beg you. I'd rather die!" There were tears shining in her green eyes.

Dean shook his head. "Sam says you can't be killed. I just watched you heal. There's no way in hell I'm letting you go to kill more people." If she didn't shut up, he was going to test Sam's theory. How much of a threat would she be if Dean took a machete to her and boxed her up in pieces?

She smiled then, a bitter smile. "You let the werewolf go, but not me?"

Dean heard a sound from outside the cavern. It gave him a reason to turn away, and he was grateful for that, because he was uneasy about letting the werewolf - Blair - go. Blair claimed he'd never killed anyone, but how could Dean be sure? Werewolves were killers. Dad wouldn't let Blair go. But Dad wouldn't have missed with his first bullet.

Erin pressed her advantage. "He lied to you, my love. He is your enemy, not I."

Dean spun around, pointing the shotgun at her. He was squeezing down on the trigger when Jim's voice came from behind him.

"You really are a piece of work, aren't you?" Jim said, his voice heavy with anger. "You've been trying to frame Blair all along. Why? Has he done something to you we don't know about, or is he just a convenient scapegoat?"

Erin gave Jim wide eyes, but she didn't answer him. Instead she looked at Dean, silently begging him to defend her.

Not a chance, sweetheart. "He's right," Dean told her. "You made your kills look like a wolf, you timed every one so it happened at full moon so people like me wouldn't suspect you. It worked, too."

"If you'd starved in an iron cage for a century, you'd be careful too."

Dean nodded. "I might."

"Hungry?" Jim asked.

For a moment, Dean thought he was talking to Erin, then he grinned. "Oh, yeah! Dude, tell me you brought breakfast."

Jim opened the backpack he was carrying and pulled out a paper-wrapped package, which he tossed to Dean. "I left Blair and Sam talking over this magic thing. They'll be here in an hour, maybe."

Dean unwrapped his breakfast eagerly. Thick sliced bread, lots of bacon, melted cheese and tomato. God, he was starving! Dean took a big bite.

Why was he so hungry? Sure, he'd skipped a meal, but... Dean looked at Erin, who was still watching him through the bars of her cage. She'd taken something from him. She fed off him.

Dean held the shotgun out to Jim. "Dude, can you take over for a few minutes? I need to get some air."

Jim accepted the gun. "Sure." Dean offered the flashlight, too, but Jim waved it away. "I don't need it."

"You can really see in the dark?"

"I need a little light, but much less than you do." Jim checked the gun was loaded. "Take your time, Dean. She's not going anywhere."

*****

"You have some psychic ability, Sam," Blair repeated as they walked side by side up the path toward the mine. "I know you're untrained, but you're the only one of the four of us who can do it."

"I'm not sure I can." Sam shook his head. "I have dreams. Sometimes I get...weird vibes...and I can usually tell when someone's lying to me, but that's all." He stopped walking and looked down over the valley. "My...talent...or power...whatever you want to call it, just isn't that reliable."

Blair looked up at him, his expression serious. "Well, the alternative is for us to use the full binding spell we found. Sam, none of us is a magician. We might not succeed."

"That spell needed a sacrifice," Sam added.

"And there's that," Blair agreed. He laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. He could see the kid was scared, scared of his power, perhaps, but that was something Blair understood. He knew what it was like to have a power you couldn't control. "Sam, I think you're more powerful than you admit. You healed Dean last night. That's supposed to be impossible."

He'd said the wrong thing. Blair realised it as soon as he saw Sam's expression change. Sam met his eyes. "You know, don't you? What I did for Dean."

Oh. Blair nodded. "I know," he answered truthfully. "Maybe better than you do."

Sam's eyes widened a little. "What does that mean?"

"I'm not psychic, but as a wolf I can see things that people don't. Last night, when I saw Dean, he was dying. The wolf saw easy prey. If Jim hadn't been there..." Blair shook his head. It was a risk every full moon, but last night had been a risk too far. He was grateful for Jim in his life, for so many things... "Do you know what you did, Sam?"

"I..." Sam looked puzzled. "Dean was flipped out. I brought him back."

He really didn't know. My god, Sam, are you saying you did that purely on instinct? You don't even know what that means, do you? Blair tried to explain. "Dean's spirit, his aura if you like, was wounded. It was like a haemorrhage of the spirit. You healed that wound with your own, like a psychic blood transfusion. The mechanism you chose doesn't matter, man. You gave him a part of yourself; too much and you might have died in his place."

Sam thought about that for a moment, then said quietly, "He's my brother."

Blair, who had never had a brother or sister, could only nod. "My point is, if you were powerful enough to save him, then helping with this binding should be easy for you."

Sam looked grim. "I don't know, dude. I seem to be able to do things for Dean that I can't replicate." He took a breath. "I'll try."

"Great. Let's go." He started up the path.

"Blair," Sam called after him.

Blair stopped but didn't walk back to Sam.

Sam started toward him. "If you're not a psychic, how do you know what I did for Dean?"

"Long story." Blair waited for Sam to catch up with him. "I...died once. I mean, I wasn't breathing and my heart stopped. Long enough that I should have been brain dead. Someone did for me what you did for Dean." Blair suppressed a shiver. He didn't enjoy the memory. Alex, and that damned fountain...he had been dead. Not merely dying, but dead. Jim brought him back.

"There's more," Sam said astutely.

Blair nodded. "It's private, man." He pointed. "There's the mine." Jim's horse was tied up outside. Dean was there, too, sitting on one of the rocks outside the mine entrance.

Sam hurried on ahead.

Dean stood when he saw them coming. "Dude, you took your time. Tell me you've got the spell."

Sam nodded. "It's kind of a good-news, bad-news deal."

"Yeah? What's the bad news?"

Sam glanced back to Blair. "We got the translation of the binding spell and...well, it's dark stuff. It requires a blood sacrifice."

"Human blood?" Dean demanded. "A death?"

Sam nodded. "Both, though the death doesn't have to be human."

"I hope that's not the only good news."

Blair reached them. "No, the good news is we - Sam and I - think it's possible we can do without the spell. You see, the spell has already been cast within these tunnels. It should be possible for us to renew the old spell, which would be easier than starting from scratch." Blair grimaced. "But there's a catch. We need to talk, man, decide what to do before we go in there."

Dean sat back on his rock. "How's the arm?" he asked.

Blair rubbed at the wound on his forearm. "Healing." It didn't hurt any more.

"Okay, so what's the deal?"

Blair let Sam do the explaining.

"This isn't a ritual like an exorcism, it's a spell. Dark magic. It works by binding a life and a death into its making. We've been over every detail and we believe we can avoid the death part by renewing the original spell..."

"You already said all this, Sammy."

"Yeah. We can avoid the death; not the life. The spell works by creating a human guardian who becomes the magical equivalent of a lock and key. The spell calls him the Keeper. As long as the Keeper lives, he or she is the only person who can set the sidhe free."

"So she got out seven years ago because the original Keeper died?"

Dean was quick. Blair nodded. "Yes, although whoever the Keeper was could have been dead for some time. The spell doesn't vanish when the Keeper dies, it just weakens." He glanced at Sam, who nodded. "The bottom line, Dean is that one of us - you or me - has to become the new Keeper."

Dean looked quickly at Sam. "Why not you or Jim?"

Sam looked almost embarrassed. "We need Jim to make sure we can find all of the symbols in the tunnel. And I'm supposed to...to keep a psychic eye on things so we'll know when the spell is complete. That leaves you two."

Dean shrugged. "Okay. So how do we do this?"

"With blood," Blair answered. "A lot of it, I'm afraid."

*****

"No. No way." Jim spoke with finality.

Blair spread his hands wide. "You want to let her go?"

Jim looked back into the tunnel to where Sam now sat with the shotgun across his lap, watching Erin. "There's got to be another way," Jim said helplessly. Blair was already wounded, from when Dean shot him two nights before. There was no way Jim was going to let him slice himself open.

But then Dean stepped forward. "It won't be Blair doing the bleeding," he said. He was looking past Jim to Erin in her cage.

Blair shook his head. "Dean, we didn't..."

Dean interrupted him. "You told me this spell needs human blood. I don't mean any offence, dude, but you're not human."

"I'm in human form now," Blair objected. "I'm human nearly all the time."

Dean nodded. "Maybe that's enough. But maybe it's not. I'm not gonna take the chance."

Blair was looking stubborn so Jim interrupted before he could start a real argument. "This whole 'magic' thing sounds crazy to me. Blair, are you sure there's no other way?"

Blair looked serious. "Jim, last night we had the element of surprise and that's the only reason we won. We can't kill her. We can't hold her with physical force. We know this binding spell worked before. It seems like the best choice we have."

"So why can't I do this?"

"Sam and I went over the ritual and the photographs you took in there. There are five symbols we have to repaint, with blood, to renew the spell, but there are a lot more than five on the walls. We need your senses to identify the right ones."

Jim nodded. He didn't like it, but he understood. "Then I think Dean's right, Chief. Don't take any chances. That is..." he turned to Dean, "...if you're strong enough."

Dean's smile was confident, perhaps over-confident. "Let's put this bitch in the ground."

*****

Blair and Sam had brought extra flashlights as well as extra guns. They climbed, one by one over the fallen rubble and into the tunnel. Every time someone went through the gap more of the rubble fell away, widening the hole. Dean muttered something about hoping it was stable as he went through. Blair told him it probably wasn't, but Jim would be able to let them know if there was a problem.

"You put a hell of a lot of faith in his senses," Dean said sceptically.

Jim didn't mind his scepticism. He would hear the stresses in the rock if there was going to be a collapse, but he might not hear them in time to do more than shout "duck!" Dean was right to be sceptical.

But Blair smiled at Dean. "I've lived with Jim a long time, man. We've tested the limits of his senses. So trust me, this will be easy for him."

Jim didn't contradict him, because they all needed to believe they were safe in here. He had to stoop to get through the opening himself. As he straightened up, he saw Sam handing the shotgun to Dean.

"What is it, dude?" Dean asked, shining a flashlight into Sam's face. "You look...weird."

"I'm...it's just that there's a lot of power in here. Blair was right. I can feel it rushing around us, like...like we're in the eye of a hurricane. It's like nothing I've ever felt..." He swallowed. "I'm ready."

Dean passed the gun to Jim and stripped off his shirt. "Okay, let's do this."

Erin screamed. It was an unearthly wail that cut through the air like fingernails on a chalk board. Jim clapped his hands over his ears, gritting his teeth. The sound pierced his skull painfully and Jim fell to his knees. He saw Dean reach for his knife. He saw Blair covering his ears in obvious pain and reached toward him. Sam was ahead of them all. His gunshot echoed through the tunnel. Sam shot again, and a third time before the screaming stopped.

Dean shook his head as he reached down to Jim. "Are you okay, dude?"

Jim allowed Dean to help him up. "Yeah," he answered shakily. There were some disadvantages to his senses; that hurt him badly. His ears were still ringing. His voice steadier, Jim added, "I'm fine."

Dean walked toward the cage. There was blood on Erin's face. Dean looked right into her eyes. "Girl, you are really starting to tick me off."

"Don't do this, my love," she begged, desperation in her eyes. "I'll leave. I'll find a new place."

Blair said, "So you can start killing in a new town?"

Blair had it right. "I don't think so," Jim said, to back him up.

"Not a chance," Sam agreed.

Dean made it unanimous. "I already told you, sweetheart. You've got the wrong guy." He held out his knife to Sam.

"You want me to..." Sam didn't take the knife.

"I ain't trusting anyone else to cut me open."

Sam accepted the knife.

Jim held the shotgun out to Blair. "Keep an eye on her, Chief." He knew Blair disliked guns, but he trusted Blair to use it if necessary while Sam and Dean were occupied.

Blair nodded, taking the shotgun from Jim.

Jim turned to Sam. "Show me which symbols I'm looking for."

Sam had everything on a sheet of paper: printouts of the photographs Jim took in the tunnel the day before, with a written version of the symbol beside each one. There were five of them. Jim studied the images for a moment, memorising them, then gave the paper to Dean.

"I just draw over the original symbols with my own blood?" Dean said. Jim listened for signs of reluctance or nerves in his voice, but Dean seemed steady, as if this was a normal thing for him.

"That's right," Blair said. He was watching the cage.

"I can feel the energy of the old spell in here," Sam said softly. "I'll feel it change if this works. When it works." He lifted the knife, looking at Dean. "Ready?"

Dean offered Sam his left hand. "Do it," he said.

Sam kept his expression rigidly under control as he cut into his brother's arm. Dean flinched at the first cut but didn't pull away. Blood welled up at once. Sam cut the way a person does when they want to suicide: vertically from Dean's wrist, cutting deeply enough to ensure the flow of blood wouldn't ease off too quickly. Blood flowed down across Dean's palm, between his fingers.

Erin made a small sound, moving closer to the bars of her cage.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded without speaking, which told Jim he wasn't entirely okay. But Dean turned to him, then. "Show me," he said firmly.

Jim walked across to the wall. "From what I can see, we start here." He could see the faded markings on the rough stone surface but in this darkness it would be almost - or perhaps entirely - invisible to the others. He showed Dean exactly where the mark was, tracing it with his own hand before stepping back to let Dean do his part.

After the third symbol, the flow of blood from Dean's arm had slowed enough that he asked Sam to cut him again. With the three of them watching as Sam cut into his brother's flesh, for a moment only Blair was watching Erin.

Everything happened very fast.

Blair snapped, "Get back!"

Jim whirled around and had time to see Erin, gripping the bars with one hand, raising the other above her head. And then he was blind. Instantly, utterly blind. But it wasn't darkness. Somehow Erin had lit up the entire tunnel with blinding light. Jim squeezed his eyes shut but it didn't help. He still had his other senses, though.

He heard someone - Sam? Dean? He couldn't tell - move toward the cage. He groped for the wall to steady himself. He heard the cage crash open. More movement. Jim heard Blair scream. Something splashed his face, warm, wet. Blood. Oh, god, Blair's blood.

"Blair!" Jim shouted.

Gunfire was deafeningly loud in the confined space. Then the light was gone. Jim opened his eyes but saw nothing. He was blind.

"Blair!" he shouted again. "Chief, where are you? I can't see!"

Hands gripped his shoulders. "He's alive," Dean said.

I want to hear that from him! Jim struggled up, using Dean's body for support. "Where is he? I can't see! What's happening?"

And then, Blair's beloved voice. "I'll live, Jim." He sounded weak, but he was alive.

Jim's panic receded a little. "What happened?" he asked.

Dean was still holding him up. "Erin broke out of the cage while we were all blind. Blair and Sam stopped her, but Blair's cut up pretty bad."

"'M okay, Jim," Blair said again.

"The girl?" Jim wanted to be at Blair's side, but...priorities. The mission came before the personal, as long as Blair was okay."

Dean answered, "Sam's got her. She's not going anywhere for a while."

"Then let's finish this before anyone else gets hurt."

"How? Dude, you're blind!"

Yeah, good point. "My eyes just got overloaded. They'll adjust. For now, just point me to the wall. Get me oriented. I've still got four senses left."

Dean didn't argue. His hand on Jim's back guided him toward the wall. Jim reached out, running his hands over the rock. "Where's the last symbol we drew?" Behind him, he could hear Blair breathing. He concentrated on the sound, on Blair's breath and heartbeat, reassuring him that his lover was still alive.

Dean took Jim's hand in his and guided his touch across the rock. "Here, Jim."

"Okay." Jim could feel the blood, tacky on his fingertips. He took a deep breath, visualising the walls he could no longer see. "The fourth one is an inverted triangle with some other lines. It should be about a metre to the right, lower down the wall than this one. Do you see it?"

Dean moved away from him and after a moment he said, "Yeah, I've got it. I can't see all of it, though."

"You've got Sam's drawing. Just do your best, Dean." Oh, god, the smell of blood was so thick in the air. Iron. "Chief?"

Sam answered, "He's okay. He can heal any wound if it's not silver, right?"

"We've never exactly tested that theory." Jim rubbed at his eyes. Shadows. All he could see were shadows. He blinked a few times. Maybe a little light, but just a blur. Nothing worth seeing. "Damn, that bitch really messed up my eyesight."

"Jim..." Blair's voice was barely a whisper.

"Chief?"

"Jim, relax and focus. You need to dial it back, not up. Dial it back."

Back? But that would make everything darker... Jim mentally kicked himself. Of course. "Thanks, Chief." He needed to see Blair. This was a simple exercise; he should be able to do it (pardon the bad pun) with his eyes shut. The light of Erin's glamour had overloaded his eyes and now he was overcompensating, making the effect worse even with the light gone. He needed to bring his eyesight back under control. Blair's words focussed him, helped him to concentrate. Slowly, things came back into focus.

Jim looked for Blair. He lay back in Sam's arms and there was blood. A lot of blood, from three parallel gashes across his middle. Jesus, it looked like she'd tried to rip his heart out. "Oh, my god, Blair!"

Blair smiled up at him. "I guess that means you can see."

Jim looked for Erin. She lay in the open cage, half of her face missing. Jim recognised gunshot wounds that must have been at near point-blank range. She was healing as he watched.

"Jim," Dean called, and Jim turned to face him. "We've got to finish this, dude. Where's the last symbol?"

Jim nodded, focussing on the job. He pointed. "Base of the wall, just to your right."

Dean stepped back. He pointed his flashlight at the right spot, but he was frowning. "I can't see anything, dude."

"There's not much to see." Jim knelt beside the wall. "Give me your hand."

There was fresh blood on Dean's fingers. Jim grasped his hand and showed him exactly where to touch. As they finished the symbol together, Jim felt something shiver over his skin. It was like a mild electric shock and he jerked away from Dean in surprise.

Sam gasped, "Holy crap!"

"I felt it, too," Jim said.

"Yeah, that did it," Sam agreed.

Dean walked across and closed the cage door. "She's bound now?" he asked, looking at Sam.

Sam, still holding Blair in his arms, looked up at Dean. "Yeah, I think so. If we've done it right..."

"If?" Dean interrupted sharply.

"We did it right, Dean. I'm sure. You're the Keeper of the spell. Erin can't leave this place while you're alive, unless you choose to let her out."

Dean's bleeding hand was wrapped around a bar of the cage. "And that ain't gonna happen." He gazed down at Erin, watching her heal, and the look on his face was something very dark. "If you're wrong, Sam, and she does get out, we'll be back." He crouched down beside the cage, leaving a smear of his blood on the bar. "You hear me, sweetheart? You'd better hope this spell holds you, because if I have to come back, I'm gonna bury you in six different states."

Part Ten