Supernatural: War of the Sons
ALSO
A
VAILABLE FROM
T
ITAN
B
OOKS:
Supernatural: Heart of the Dragon
by Keith R.A. DeCandido
by Joe Schreiber
™
WAR OF THE SONS
& DAVID REED
Based on the hit CW series SUPERNATURAL created by Eric Kripke
TITAN BOOKS
Supernatural: War of the Sons
ISBN: 9781848569287
Published by
Titan Books
A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd
144 Southwark St
London
SE1 0UP
First edition August 2010
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
SUPERNATURAL™ & © 2010 Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. Cover imagery: Front cover image courtesy of Warner Bros.; Ancient Scroll © Shutterstock; Black Vector Silhouettes Skyline © Shutterstock.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
Printed and bound in the United States.
H
ISTORIAN
’
S
N
OTE
This novel takes place shortly after the season five episode
“My Bloody Valentine.”
This guy’s not from around here.
The thought occurred to Caleb as soon as he saw the man’s car. It was almost silent, drifting up the long driveway to the camp with no engine noise, the only sound the crunch of gravel under its tires. The gunmetal-gray frame came to a halt in the grass field adjacent to the camp that was too-generously labeled “Parking Lot.”
Caleb stared as the driver’s door opened and a tall man got out. The stranger’s appearance was immaculate—every hair perfectly in place—but something was off. Caleb figured it was probably the Hawaiian shirt.
“Where is Justin Black?” the man intoned, without preamble.
Despite Caleb’s considerable strengths as a camp counselor, actually keeping track of the children was a remarkably low priority for him.
We’re in the middle of the woods,
he told himself,
where are they gonna go?
For that reason, the Hawaiian-shirted man had caught him off guard.
“Uh... at camp?” Caleb said, and regretted the words as soon as they spilled from his mouth.
Is Justin Black the fat one with the Harry Potter birthmark
, he pondered,
or the creepy little one who was always trying to give out free hugs?
“My son. His location.” The man paused for effect. “I require more specific information.”
Caleb glanced into the open window of the activities building, hoping that he’d happen to see the boy in there.
Nope
.
“I’ll find him. He’s out by the lake, I think,” Caleb said, putting on his best reassuring voice.
He’d better be
, he thought,
or this is going to be awkward
.
“No,” the man said. “I’ll find him myself.”
The man walked purposefully toward the forest path, and Caleb quickly followed. There was something off-putting about the guy, and Caleb didn’t recognize him from parents’ night.
Could have been the weed, though
, he thought. Actually, wasn’t it Justin Black’s dad who’d brought the weed?
Caleb hurried to catch up to the man’s long strides.
“Is there a problem?” he asked. “Usually Justin’s mom picks him up—”
“No problem.” The man cut him off. “I just need to speak with the boy.”
Yup, he’s a pervert
. Who else calls their son “the boy?” Caleb sped up his pursuit.
“What was your name again?” Caleb asked, hoping it would jog some memory of this guy. “I didn’t catch it before.”
The man turned, slow and deliberate.
“Don. Call me Don.”
The camp counselor was certainly annoying, but it was by no means the worst thing Don had had to put up with in his long and storied existence. His former profession had brought him into contact with the absolute worst of the worst, the darkest blights on the fabric of humankind that ever walked the Earth.
I’m like Jerry Springer without the fame
, Don thought, amused by his own analogy. After his previous occupation, it didn’t take much to amuse Don.
Well, the fame part is about to change
.
Losing the counselor in the forest was a simple matter. One moment, the kid was an arm’s-length away. The next, Don was a quarter-mile ahead of him. The path wound its way down a hill, dense thickets of forest obscuring the view. It would all be over before the counselor caught up.
The lake itself was pristine and beautiful, its glassy surface rippling with the slight breeze. An amazing summer day, one like Don hadn’t seen in... too long to remember.
“Ew! Don’t touch it with your bare hands!”
Don’s head turned an unnatural degree to find the source of the shout. It had come from a girl, about ten years old, running away from a boy of the same age.
Justin Black.
“You’re gonna get warts!” the girl cried, desperately dodging away from the frog in Justin’s outstretched hands.
“No I won’t,” Justin said, “my brother said frogs give you herpes.”
“What’s that?” the girl asked innocently.
“I dunno. Why don’t you ask the frog?” Justin thrust the amphibian at her, only to have it leap out of his hands and into the bog at the lake’s edge.
“Great, now you made me lose it,” Justin complained.
He reached down into the bog to find the lost creature, but another pair of hands got there first. Don lifted the frog out of the swampy water, holding it delicately, as if the slightest pressure would shatter it.
“It’s not lost, my boy,” Don said, a warm look on his face.
Justin took a step back, confused.
“Dad?”
“No, Justin, not exactly.”
The frog croaked loudly, startling both of the children. Justin’s brow furrowed.
“Mom said you’re not supposed to come see me. She said the police wouldn’t let you.”
“My boy, that was the old me. There’s a new set of rules, now.” Don held out the frog to Justin, trying to bring the boy closer.
“You like frogs, don’t you?”
Caleb’s mind was racing. Where had the man gone? Should he call the cops? How the
hell
had he got so far ahead? He began to run, hurtling down the path as he started to panic, stumbling over the uneven ground. Then he felt his foot hit a rock, sending him tumbling down the slope and slamming into a tree.
“Damn it!” he groaned, as the pain shot through him, bringing tears to his eyes. Wincing, he shifted into a sitting position and peered at his leg. His pants were ripped and a trail of blood was seeping down his thigh.
Crap.
He pulled himself up, took a step forward, and collapsed.
Oh God, I can’t stand. Maybe it’s broken.
Fear filled his mind. Fear of what would happen to the kids at the lake, fear of what would happen when his boss found out about his inattentiveness, and fear of dying slowly of bloodloss out in the woods where no one could find him.
Calm the hell down
, he thought,
this isn’t even that bad. It’s barely even bleeding
. That realization helped him get back to his feet. He had managed to hobble a few steps forward when he heard it.
The blood-curdling scream of Justin Black.
I can feel it,
Dean thought.
The sky is falling.
It wasn’t a new feeling. In fact, the sky had been falling on Dean Winchester since he was four years old. The difference, of course, was that this time could very well be the
last
time.
And this is where it all ends? The Apocalypse is gonna go down in the ass-edge of nowhere?
Dean let out a tired sigh as he gunned the Impala onto County Road 6. There was nothing on either side of the asphalt except cornfields, cattle, farms and farmers—the very Americana that Dean and his brother Sam fought to protect. For a moment, Dean’s imagination took hold, and the clouds on the horizon became pillars of smoke, spilling from unseen tongues of flame. The rotting wooden beams of a decrepit barn became the last remnants of humanity. Dean shook the vision out of his head, and the clouds were once again clouds. The barn was, once more, just a barn.
