(Author note: Hello everyone - I recommend reading this chapter with some exciting fighting music. At least, that's the kind of music I listened to while writing it.
Well, enjoy!)
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The knight turned his helmeted head deliberately toward Dean and Lucien, the narrow eye slit of his great helm focusing on them.
Though his face remained hidden behind medieval steel, the intensity of his gaze was palpable - a hunter selecting his prey.
The temperature plummeted around them, frost crystallizing on the asphalt that spread outward from the nightmare steed's smoking hooves.
Each exhale from the Winchesters formed visible clouds in the suddenly frigid air.
"Run," John ordered, stepping forward and positioning himself between the armored figure and his sons. "All of you. Get back to the Impala. Now."
Sam and Dean exchanged quick glances, years of training urging them to obey their father's command. But Lucien remained rooted beside John, his jaw set in stubborn determination.
"I'm not going anywhere," Lucien said, hands already rising in preparation to channel the Force.
The knight's massive horse shifted beneath him, bones creaking audibly beneath its shadowy flesh.
With a slight adjustment of his weight - a movement so subtle it would have been imperceptible if not for the metallic whisper of his armor - The Knight urged his mount forward one deliberate step.
"This isn't a discussion," John growled, eyes never leaving the approaching threat. "Dean, get your brothers out of here."
Dean moved to grab Lucien's shoulder, but the younger Winchester shrugged him off.
"I'm not leaving you to die alone pointlessly," Lucien snapped, stepping up beside his father. "Not when I can help."
John turned then, tearing his gaze from the knight to glare at Lucien with a mixture of rage and fear that made even Dean step back.
"The three of you are my sons," John said, voice low and fierce. "What kind of father would I be if I wasn't prepared to sacrifice my life and soul for you?"
The phrasing struck Lucien as odd - soul? - but before he could question it, the knight's helmet tilted slightly to one side.
The gesture was almost... respectful. As if the armored figure appreciated this exchange between father and son and was patiently waiting for it to conclude.
That momentary courtesy vanished as John suddenly charged forward with a battle cry that seemed torn from somewhere deep within - primal.
His right hand extended outward, and to the shock of his sons, darkness erupted from his palm - viscous shadows that coalesced into a two-headed spear of pure darkness.
The weapon radiated malevolence, its surface rippling like oil on water, drinking in the surrounding light.
"What the hell?" Dean breathed, eyes wide with disbelief.
John leapt - higher than any human should be able to - bringing the Dark Spear down in an overhead strike aimed at the knight's helm.
The Knight reacted with impressive speed, raising his massive sword to intercept the blow.
The weapons collided with a thunderous impact that sent a visible shockwave outward, shattering windows in nearby buildings and knocking the Winchesters back a step.
The knight's nightmare steed reared, front hooves pawing at the air before dissolving into shadow that reformed several yards away, watching with glowing red eyes.
The Knight dismounted with a grace that belied his massive armored form, the joints of his plate mail whispering rather than clanking.
"Dad has a magic spear?" Sam's voice was tight with confusion. "Since when does Dad have a magic spear?"
(The Dark Spear image here and comments)
Lucien stared at the Dark Spear.
Tendrils of darkness crawled up John's arms with each strike, pulsing beneath his skin like black veins. The weapon wasn't just channeling power - it was feeding on John himself, he could sense.
"It's killing him," Lucien whispered, his voice barely audible over the clash of weapons. "Every time he uses it, it's burning away part of his life."
John fought desperately, wielding the Dark Spear in a two-handed grip.
He opened with a diagonal slash that carved darkness through the air, followed immediately by a reverse thrust aimed at the knight's midsection.
When The Knight parried the thrust with a twist of his blade, John pivoted on his back foot, using the spear's momentum to swing it in a horizontal arc that forced the knight to backstep.
Dark tendrils continued to crawl up John's arms with each movement, pulsing beneath his skin like black veins.
The spear responded to his aggression, its twin points elongating as John pressed forward with a series of increasingly reckless attacks - a downward strike that cracked the pavement when The Knight sidestepped, a sweeping low cut meant to take the knight's legs, a feint high followed by a thrust toward the armor's chest joint.
"Come on, you son of a bitch!" John growled, spinning the spear in a the number eight pattern before him.
The Knight moved. His massive blade intercepted John's spear, with little waste in movement - a slight angle adjustment here, a measured parry there, each response calculated to expend minimum energy while testing his opponent's form.
The knight's footwork was advancing and retreating in measured steps that maintained perfect balance despite his bulky armor.
When John overextended on a thrust, The Knight executed a counter, his sword sweeping in a way that would have severed John's head if the hunter hadn't ducked at the last second.
The blade instead cleaved through a nearby streetlight, the metal pole separating as cleanly as if cut by a laser.
Without pausing, the knight transitioned into a low guard position, helmet tracking John's every movement.
The contrast between their styles became increasingly apparent - John fought like a man with nothing to lose, each strike fueled by raw determination and the spear's dark power.
His attacks grew wilder, more unpredictable, the weapon leaving whispering trails of shadow as it sliced through the air.
The Knight fought with the patience of centuries, each movement precise and purposeful, waiting for the inevitable opening John's aggression would create.
"We need to help him," Dean said, reaching for his gun though he must have known it would be useless against the armored figure.
"With what?" Sam countered, eyes darting between the battle and the Impala parked down the street. "Look at them - what can we even do."
'Get the hell out of that's what,' Was on the tip of Lucien's tongue, nearly snapping at them, but reined himself in.
Lashing out against his brothers because of his worry for their dad was useless, and unfair.
John countered - feinting left before dropping to one knee and thrusting the Dark Spear upward with both hands.
The weapon's shadowy point found the narrow gap in the Knight's shoulder joint, penetrating the armor with a sound like tearing metal.
The spear drank greedily as it made contact, darkness pulsing along its length as it drew power from both John and its victim.
The Knight reeled backward, his perfect posture broken for the first time. Black ichor, thick as tar and shimmering with moonlight, oozed from the wound.
His massive sword dipped momentarily as his arm adjusted to the damage. The knight's helmet tilted downward in an almost human gesture, examining the injury with what seemed like genuine surprise - as if it had been centuries since anything had penetrated his defenses.
Seizing the opening, John sprang forward. He spun the Dark Spear in a way that left afterimages of shadow in its wake, building momentum before delivering a powerful diagonal strike across the knight's breastplate.
The impact released a pulse of darkness that cracked the surrounding pavement. Metal shrieked as the spear carved a deep furrow across the Knight's torso, the gash revealing matted gray fur beneath.
The Knight's posture shifted instantly, abandoning restraint.
His gauntleted hand flexed around his sword's hilt, the blade suddenly thrumming with crimson energy that pulsed.
The Knight launched a high overhead strike that John barely blocked, the impact driving him back three steps, then a horizontal slash that whistled past John's throat as he arched backward, followed by a brutal pommel strike that caught John's shoulder when he was a fraction too slow to dodge.
Each blow carried devastating force, sending visible shockwaves rippling through the air that shattered nearby windows and bent metal streetlights.
The knight pressed forward relentlessly, his sword a blur of fury.
When John attempted to create distance with a sweeping strike, the Knight caught the spear's shaft on his blade and twisted, nearly wrenching the weapon from John's grasp.
Only by allowing the Dark Spear to drink deeper of his life force - gray visibly spreading through his hair as it did - was John able to maintain his grip and break away from the knight's overwhelming assault.
"Dad's slowing down," Dean observed, tension evident in his voice.
He was right. John's movements were becoming sluggish, his reactions delayed by fractions of seconds that could prove fatal.
More alarming was his appearance - gray was visibly spreading through his hair, lines deepening around his eyes with each powerful strike of the Dark Spear.
Lucien had seen enough. Ignoring his father's earlier command, he stepped forward, hands rising as he reached deep into the Force.
"Lucien, don't!" Sam called, but it was too late.
With a gesture that combined a push and a twist, Lucien telekinetically lifted an abandoned sedan from the side of the street and hurled it directly at the Knight.
The knight sensed the attack, pivoting smoothly to slice the vehicle in half with his massive blade.
Metal shrieked as it parted, the two halves of the car crashing to the ground on either side of the armored figure.
But Lucien wasn't finished. He immediately seized a second car, launching it before the Knight could fully recover from his first defensive move. This one caught the knight squarely, sending him staggering back several steps.
John shot Lucien a look that mingled gratitude with fury. "I told you to run!"
"And I told you I'm not leaving you to die!" Lucien countered, already focusing on his next attack.
Dean grabbed Sam's arm, pulling his brother's attention from the battle. "We need to get to the Impala."
"What? We can't just leave them!" Sam protested.
"Look at that thing," Dean hissed, nodding toward the Knight, who was already recovering from Lucien's attack. "Look at what Dad's using. We're outmatched, Sammy. We need weapons - real weapons."
Sam's gaze darted between his father and brothers and the knight. Reluctance warred with the reality on his face. "Dad and Lucien have powers," he finally admitted. "We don't. We'll just get in the way."
Decision made, they retreated toward the Impala, Dean practically dragging Sam when his brother hesitated for one last look at the battle.
Lucien barely registered their departure, his focus entirely on the knight now advancing toward him.
He gathered the Force - the Dark Side - around himself, feeling it respond to his call with familiar cold fire.
Lightning crackled between his fingertips, building until the air itself seemed to vibrate.
"Dad, move!" he shouted, then unleashed a torrent of Force Lightning directly at the Knight.
The blue-white energy struck the knight's sword arm, causing the massive blade to dip momentarily.
The Knight's armor absorbed much of the attack, but his movements slowed noticeably.
John immediately capitalized on the opening, driving the Dark Spear into a joint in the knight's armor with enough force to penetrate the metal.
The Knight staggered, black ichor once more spilling. His helmet tilted toward Lucien, then back to John, the gesture somehow conveying grudging respect.
Then the knight changed tactics.
His armored form began to bulge and shift, plates expanding as if something beneath was growing.
Claws extended from his gauntlets, wickedly sharp and gleaming in the streetlight. His movements became less human, more bestial - the discipline of knighthood giving way to something primal and savage.
"What the hell is he?" John gasped, backing up a step as the Knight's helmet tilted back in what might have been a silent howl.
"Werewolf," Lucien realized aloud. "There's a werewolf inside that armor."
Sir Lycan charged, moving with far faster than before - in a way normally too fast for something so massive.
His sword swept down in an overhead strike that John barely blocked with the Dark Spear. The impact drove John to one knee, darkness spreading further up his arms as the spear drew more deeply on his life force to match the knight's strength.
Lucien reached out with telekinesis, ripping up a section of asphalt and hurling it at the knight's back.
Sir Lycan sensed the attack, twisting to slice through the projectile without breaking his clash with John.
John's fighting style was changing too, becoming increasingly savage as the Dark Spear's influence grew.
He laughed - a sound so unlike his normal self that it sent chills down Lucien's spine - as he landed a glancing blow on the knight's leg armor.
'What the fuck? Dad can laugh?'
Dark energy pulsed around him with each strike, his attacks growing more reckless, sacrificing defense for raw offensive power.
"Dad!" Lucien called out, alarmed. "You need to control it! The spear is feeding on you!"
Either John didn't hear or couldn't respond.
He pressed his attack on Sir Lycan with more ferocity. The knight matched him blow for blow, his blood-drinking sword humming through the air.
Lucien created a swirling barrier of debris between himself and the knight, using the Force to maintain a protective cyclone of broken concrete, metal, and glass.
Through this barrier, he launched strikes at the joints in Sir Lycan's armor, targeting the vulnerable points where plates met.
Sir Lycan's helmet remained fixed on Lucien even while parrying John's attacks. The knight was clearly assessing him, recognizing him as the greater threat despite John's Dark Spear - remembering the earlier lightning.
Sir Lycan executed a high feint followed by a low sweep, a diagonal slash transitioning seamlessly into a thrust, each movement flowing into the other.
His footwork created a gradually expanding spiral pattern across the battlefield, forcing John to adjust his position with each defensive counter.
The knight was herding them, each calculated step and strike pushing father and son into increasingly separate zones of the street.
Lucien tracked the knight's movements, recognizing the pattern forming. He sidestepped a broken fire hydrant, water still spraying skyward, to reposition himself at John's flank. "He's trying to divide us!" he called, deflecting a piece of debris Sir Lycan had kicked toward him with a quick Force push.
John's eyes cleared momentarily, the Dark Spear's influence receding enough for him to understand.
He nodded sharply, adjusting his stance to mirror Lucien's.
Together they moved to counter the knight's advances - when Sir Lycan pressed toward Lucien's left, John would shift to maintain the triangular formation; when the knight attempted to lure John forward with a deliberate opening, Lucien would close the gap with a telekinetic push that kept their defensive line intact.
Frustration emanated from Sir Lycan in palpable waves.
His helmet tilted slightly, reassessing his approach. The Knight raised his massive sword high overhead with both hands, the blade glowing with accumulated power.
He brought it down not on either opponent but directly into the ground between them.
The impact was cataclysmic.
The earth split with a thunderous crack, a fissure eight feet deep and rapidly widening tearing through the street.
Concrete and asphalt shattered upward in jagged shards as the crevasse spread in both directions.
John and Lucien were forced to dive in opposite directions - John rolling right into a defensive crouch, Lucien leaping left with a Force-jump - the chasm separating them exactly as Sir Lycan had intended.
Before either could recover properly, the knight pivoted fast toward Lucien, clearly identifying him as the priority target.
Sir Lycan crossed the distance in three massive strides, his sword already swinging in a a horizantal arc aimed at Lucien's midsection.
The blade hummed through the air, trailing droplets of what looked like fresh blood despite having shed none.
Lucien's hands shot up instinctively. A shimmering telekinetic barrier materialized inches from his body just as the blood-sword crashed against it.
The impact generated a sound like thunder directly overhead, a visible shockwave rippling outward from the point of contact.
The barrier held, but the force behind the blow sent Lucien sliding backward across the broken street, his boots carving deep furrows in the asphalt as he struggled to maintain both balance and concentration.
John seized the momentary opening, vaulting across the narrowest part of the crevasse with the Dark Spear aimed at a gap in Sir Lycan's back armor - a small separation between plates where the knight's earlier wound had compromised the integrity of his protection.
The spear's point was mere inches from connecting when, without turning or even appearing to notice the attack, Sir Lycan's left arm shot backward in a blindingly fast sweep.
The knight's clawed gauntlet caught John mid-air, five metal talons raking across his chest with enough force to change his trajectory completely.
John's body arced away from his intended target, blood spraying in a fine mist as he slammed into the brick wall of a nearby building.
The impact shattered windows and dislodged several rows of bricks that rained down around his crumpled form.
"Dad!" Lucien shouted, momentarily distracted by concern for his father.
Sir Lycan pressed his advantage, his sword coming down in an overhead strike that would have cleaved Lucien in two if he hadn't rolled aside at the last moment.
The blade struck the ground where he'd been standing, sinking three feet into solid concrete.
Lucien scrambled to his feet, blood trickling from his nose - a warning sign of Force exhaustion.
He glanced toward his father, who was pushing himself up from the rubble, looking years older than he had at the start of the battle.
The Dark Spear pulsed in his grip, hungry for more life force.
Lucien was sooo exhausted. His vision was blurring slightly, and his mind, racing for a moment to something else to relax.
Suddenly it clicked Lucien's mind as he watched the darkness swirling around his father. 'That's why I couldn't sense it!' he realized.
'Dad's obsession with Azazel, following his trails, had echoes of his presence mark John, creating the dark mist I was so familiar with around him that masked the spear's energy.'
'Even Yellow-Eyes's farts after all would have more darkness in them than that spear. It feeling like a hundred screaming souls forced togther notwithstanding.'
Sir Lycan wrenched his sword free from the concrete, turning to face Lucien once more.
The knight's armor was damaged in multiple places, black ichor seeping from the joints, but he showed no signs of slowing.
If anything, his movements were becoming more fluid, more dangerous, as the beast within the armor asserted itself more fully.
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Miles away, on a hillside overlooking Millhaven, Sam and Dean worked frantically over the hood of the Impala.
"Are you sure this will work?" Dean asked, arranging herbs and crystals according to Sam's instructions.
Sam consulted a weathered book, its pages illuminated by the Impala's headlights. "It's a long-range offensive spell Bobby showed me. It needs a lot of build up - been having it do so for the past months, so we're checked on that. I've never tried it though, but the theory is sound."
Dean glanced toward the distant battle, visible as flashes of light and darkness against the night sky. "We need to hurry. They won't last much longer against that thing."
Sam nodded, carefully drawing the final sigil on the Impala's hood with a piece of chalk. "This should amplify the spell's power and range. Hand me the wolfsbane."
Dean passed him a bundle of dried herbs, which Sam placed at the center of the intricate pattern he'd created. "What exactly is this supposed to do?"
"If it works?" Sam struck a match. "Create a fireball powerful enough to at least distract that knight long enough for Dad and Lucien to get the upper hand."
"And if it doesn't work?"
Sam's expression was grim as he touched the flame to the herbs. "Then we'd better start praying."
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Back in Millhaven, the battle continued.
Lucien and John stood side by side against the towering Knight, both exhausted.
The 14-year-old boy's knees wobbled, before he steadied himself, blood remanent being down his left nostril.
'Fuck... Man am I tired... I thought It would be... best to be more stamina friendly in case there were more enemies coming, but this shit isn't gonna work like this... I need to use more big moves - having only gotten the hang of it days ago be damned.'
Lucien's hands suddenly rose before him, fingers extended like a conductor before an orchestra.
The air between him and Sir Lycan seemed to ripple, distorting slightly as Lucien gathered the Force.
"Here goes fucking nothing." He muttered to himself.
With a sharp slashing motion of his right hand, Lucien released the energy. A nearly invisible blade of pure Force cut through the space between them, striking Sir Lycan's left pauldron fast - faster than he could react.
The armor split cleanly, a perfect line appearing across the metal before black ichor welled from the wound beneath.
Sir Lycan's helmet snapped toward Lucien, registering the new threat. Before he could advance, Lucien executed another slashing gesture, this time diagonal.
The Force-blade carved across the knight's breastplate, leaving another perfect cut that penetrated both metal and whatever lay beneath.
"That's... working," John gasped, struggling back to his feet.
Lucien didn't respond, his entire being focused on maintaining the technique. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he executed a third cut, then a fourth in rapid succession.
Each motion required intense concentration, the Force responding to his will but being very stamina heavy.
Blood now flowed freely from both nostrils, and a dull throbbing built behind his eyes.
Sir Lycan staggered as the fifth invisible blade sliced through his right leg armor, momentarily dropping to one knee.
The knight's sword plunged into the ground for support, his helmet tilting upward in what might have been disbelief that a human child could inflict such damage.
Taking advantage of the opening, Lucien crossed his arms before him, then spread them wide in a tearing motion.
The Force responded as multiple invisible edges struck the Knight simultaneously from different angles.
Armor plates separated along perfect lines, black ichor spraying outward as the knight's protection was being destroyed, pieces of his flesh cut off.
A sound emerged from within the helmet - a bestial roar of pain and rage that seemed to shake the very air.
The Knight's form began to change, bulging against the confines of his damaged armor as the werewolf within fought to emerge.
Lucien pressed his advantage, drawing deeper on the Force despite the warning signs his body was sending - the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, the darkening edges of his vision, the trembling of his limbs from exertion.
He executed another attack while weaving his hands, creating a cross-hatching of Force-blades that carved Sir Lycan's armor into a grotesque mosaic of metal fragments barely held together.
"Lucien, stop!" John called, seeing his son's worsening condition. "You're pushing too hard!"
But Lucien couldn't stop - wouldn't stop - not when they finally had the advantage. One final, desperate gesture sent the most powerful Force-blade yet directly at Sir Lycan's helmet, the invisible edge aiming to separate head from body.
The knight's gauntleted hand shot up with immense speed, and actually CATCHING THE FORCE-BLADE mere inches from his neck.
The energy crackled visibly now, blue-white lightning dancing between Sir Lycan's metal fingers as he somehow held the attack at bay.
Above them, the floating castle suddenly began... glowing.
Beams of concentrated moonlight streaked downward, connecting with Sir Lycan's shattered armor.
Where the light touched, wounds healing, metal flowed like liquid, reforming and strengthening.
The knight's posture straightened as power flooded into him, his sword beginning to glow with the same eerie light.
Lucien collapsed to one knee, blood now streaming from his ears as well as his nose. The Force-blade dissipated as his concentration faltered, his reserves nearly depleted.
He'd pushed too far, too fast, and now they were facing a opponent with healing with them having slowly nothing left to give.
'Shit... So I was kinda right... Man, how I hate being right, right now. Since when is being right a wrong thing! Fucking Hell!' Lucien roared in his mind as he grit his teeth, trying to push himself up.
"The castle," John realized, looking upward at the source of their enemy's renewed strength. "It's powering him up."
"We can't beat him while he's connected to that castle!" John shouted over the increasingly loud hum of energy.
"We need to sever the connection somehow!" Lucien replied, thinking fast for a solution.
They made their stand as Sir Lycan charged.
John channeled more power through the Dark Spear than ever before, visibly aging with each passing second.
The darkness spread across his entire body, no longer just veins but solid patches of shadow that seemed to devour the light around him.
Lucien pushed himself even more, beyond his supposed limits, beyond his safety and summoned Force Lightning.
The blue-white energy crackled around him in expanding arcs, scorching the ground at his feet and raising the hair on his arms.
The Knight met their combined assault with his moonlit blade, the three powers colliding in the center to the point that the air itself seemed to warp around it.
The surrounding area began to disintegrate from the sheer power being unleashed - concrete crumbling, metal melting, glass vaporizing instantly.
For a moment, they were evenly matched, three powers held in perfect balance. Then the castle above pulsed brighter, channeling more energy into its knight.
Sir Lycan began to gain ground, pushing John and Lucien back step by step, their combined powers faltering against his enhanced strength.
Lucien's vision began to tunnel, darkness creeping in from the edges as he pushed his body beyond its limits.
John was barely recognizable now, his features obscured by the darkness consuming him, only his eyes visible - and those were solid black.
Just as their defenses were about to collapse, a streak of orange light cut across the night sky.
A massive fireball, easily the size of a car, slammed into Sir Lycan from behind. The knight's helmet turned sharply in surprise, the beams connecting him to the castle momentarily disrupted.
Lucien didn't waste the opportunity. Drawing on reserves he didn't know he had, he poured everything into his Force Lightning.
Blood streamed freely from his mouth from the effort, as he bit his tongue, but the lightning intensified to blinding levels, engulfing Sir Lycan in crackling blue-white energy.
John made a final push with the Dark Spear, driving it forward with a scream of agony that seemed to contain all the pain of his life.
The darkness spread across his entire body as the spear drank deeply of his life force for this last, desperate attack.
Their combined attack overwhelmed Sir Lycan. The knight's armor began to crack, moonlight spilling from the fissures.
His sword shattered under the pressure, fragments dissolving into blood that evaporated instantly in the energy maelstrom.
Sir Lycan made one final stand, his helmet raised proudly as his form began to disintegrate.
There was something almost noble in his last moments - a warrior accepting his end with dignity.
Then he was gone, armor collapsing inward before dissolving into ash and moonlight that scattered on the night breeze.
Above, the floating castle began to fade from reality, its outline growing indistinct before disappearing entirely like mist burned away by the morning sun.
The battle was over. They had won.
But John didn't lower the Dark Spear.
His eyes - completely black now - turned toward Lucien. The veins of darkness had spread across his entire body, transforming him into something barely recognizable as human.
He advanced slowly, the spear held at the ready.
"Dad?" Lucien called, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "Dad, it's over. We won. You can put it down now."
John gave no indication that he heard or understood. He continued his advance, the Dark Spear pulsing eagerly in his grip.
Lucien realized with horror that the spear had taken control. The weapon wasn't just feeding on John's life force - it controlling him. It wanted more. It wanted Lucien.
"Dad, please," Lucien tried again, backing away. "You need to fight it. Don't let it control you."
John's only response was a low growl, inhuman and hungry.
Summoning what little strength he had left, Lucien extended his hand, attempting to use the Force to remove the spear from John's grip.
The weapon resisted, seemingly fused to John's hand. Lucien pulled harder, engaging in a telekinetic tug-of-war with the sentient weapon.
"Mine!" John's voice was distorted, barely recognizable. "Its power is MINE!"
He swung the Dark Spear at Lucien. Lucien barely managed to deflect it with a hastily erected telekinetic shield, the effort sending fresh waves of pain through his body.
As Lucien began to lose the battle of wills, his strength fading rapidly, a leather whip cracked through the air with a sound like thunder.
It wrapped around John's neck from behind, yanking him backward with enough force to momentarily stagger him.
Lucien didn't question this unexpected assistance. He seized the opportunity, summoning every last ounce of strength to rip the Dark Spear from John's grasp.
John howled in rage and pain as the connection broke, the sound more animal than human.
With the spear now floating in the air before him, Lucien sensed a resonance between it and something in John's pocket.
Following his instincts, he used the Force to pull a small ornate box from his father's jacket.
The box flew into his hand as he simultaneously struggled to contain the Dark Spear, which writhed in his grip like a living thing trying to escape.
Lucien could feel its hunger, its rage, its desire to consume. It whispered promises of power, of protection for his family, of vengeance against those who threatened them.
With this weapon, he could protect everyone he loved. He could destroy Katherine Pierce, confront the Fates themselves, perhaps even challenge Azazel...
"No," Lucien growled, rejecting the spear's seduction.
"You're a third rate weapon, with fourth rate delusions." the boy countered, finding its temptations laughable.
He opened the box with trembling fingers while holding the struggling spear at bay. The interior was lined with sigils that seemed to shift and move when viewed directly.
Lucien engaged in a final battle of wills with the weapon, forcing it toward the open box despite its resistance.
The spear fought viciously, darkness lashing out at Lucien's mind with images of his family dying, of himself powerless to save them.
But Lucien held firm, pushing the weapon inch by agonizing inch toward its prison.
With a final surge of will, he forced the Dark Spear into the box and slammed the lid shut. The weapon's scream of rage echoed in his mind even as the box sealed it away.
Completely drained, Lucien collapsed to the ground. Through blurry vision, he saw his father on his knees nearby, the darkness receding from his body like tide going out.
John looked haggard, aged years in the span of minutes, but human once more.
In the distance, headlights appeared - the Impala returning, Dean pushing the engine to its limits as he and Sam raced back to the battlefield.
Lucien tried to turn his head to see who had wielded the whip that saved him, but his body refused to respond.
The last thing he saw before consciousness fled was a figure moving into his field of vision - a man holding a coiled leather whip that seemed to glow faintly in the predawn light. Then darkness claimed him, and Lucien knew no more.
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Sam was the first to reach his little brother, sliding to his knees beside his still form. "Lucien! Can you hear me?"
Dean went straight to John, checking his pulse with practiced fingers. "Dad's alive," he called to Sam. "Barely. He looks... God, he looks twenty years older."
Lucien's eyes fluttered open briefly at the sound of Sam's voice.
'So... loud.' he thought to himself.
"The box," he though managed to whisper, fingers still clutched around the ornate container. "Don't open it... ever..."
His eyes rolled back as he this time, truly passed out completely, the box still gripped tightly in his hand. Its surface rippled briefly with dark energy before going dormant.
Dean looked from his unconscious father to his brother, then to the stranger standing a few yards away, whip still in hand. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
The man's gaze remained fixed on the box in Lucien's hand, his expression grim. "Someone who knows what that thing you were facing was," he replied, nodding toward the container. "And what it heralds"
Dawn was breaking over Millhaven, the first rays of sunlight illuminating the destruction left in the battle's wake.
Buildings lay in ruins, the street was torn up as if by an earthquake, and at the center of it all, the Winchesters - broken but alive.
The stranger coiled his whip at his hip, approaching cautiously. "My name is Trevor Belmont," he said. "And you people have no idea what you've been dragged into."
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
Do tell me how you found it.
So... Castlevania! Trevor is here, of the famed Belmont family.
What? It's one of my favorite shows, and no way, we gonna focus so much on vampires, and not have bloody most famous one in the mix.
Do tell me how you found the fight between John and Lucien against Sir Lycan.
I hope it was good. Took me, many, many hours to write.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)