Chapter 1 – Something Wicked This Way Comes.
328 – Days
Portland, Oregon – 3:37am
Dean scrubbed a hand over his face feeling three days of stubble and the deep etched lines of a night of heavy drinking. He sat naked on the edge of the bed, the sheet draped over his hips just to keep the evening chill off his groin. The euphoria of drunkenness was steadily giving way to the dull ache of a solid hang over.
The previous night's revelry represented the first downtime that he and Sam had taken in weeks and Dean had been hungry for it. Since fighting Asbeel in Rhode Island, Dean and Sam had been hunting almost non stop. First there was the possessed cattle farmer in Montana, the phantom hitch hiker through Idaho, the Skin Walker in Washington and most recently the reaper in Portland.
It had gotten to the point where Dean was almost dreading answering any of Bobby or Ellen's calls because all it would do is give them new quarry to worry about. On their travels Sam had become increasingly more remote, going for days on end without even saying a word. He seemed isolated and everything that Dean tried seemed to only exacerbate the issue.
Last night he had dragged Sam to a bar in the hopes that he would let down his guard for a few hours and enjoy himself, but after only an hour he complained that he had a headache and was going back to the hotel room. Dean had debated whether to go with him or not, and looking at the corn coloured locks that were spread out on the pillow beside him, Dean wished that he had.
Dean had vowed shortly after making his deal with the demon that he was going to get laid this year…a lot. After all, he had his entire life to try and fit into one year and he was going to make damn sure that was what he did, but having picked up the bubbly blonde last night, Dean wondered if this was a vow he could keep.
Without question Dean had enjoyed their little tryst from a physical perspective, but the whole thing had left him strangely unfulfilled. She was indeed a pretty little thing, with long golden blonde hair and sparkly brown eyes, but as he had held her small tanned breasts he had wanted them to be full with creamy skin and a rose coloured nipple and when he had fisted his hands in her hair, he had wanted a handful of auburn tresses, not the corn coloured strands that were really there.
The truth of the matter was that, in a week or two, Dean would be nothing more than a shadow of a memory for this woman. If he was lucky she might even remember his name, but that would be all. She hadn't really known him, she wouldn't miss him when he was gone and in all likelihood, their whole encounter would turn into and anecdote that she shared with girlfriends when they had one too many margaritas.
Dean didn't have much time on this world left and he needed to know that his leaving it would at least make and impression on somebody. Sam was so distant lately that Dean wondered if his passing would even affect his brother. Even though they were travelling together, Dean felt lonely. He had hoped that his fling with Amy or Annie or Emily or whatever her name was would help alleviate that, but it only made him feel worse.
Dean stood up quietly pulling on his jeans and boots, making a little noise as possible so as not to wake his slumbering partner, but still feeling some of the affects of the alcohol made him clumsy and he crashed around the darkened bedroom until he had all of his clothes on.
He considered for a moment leaving a note for the girl; a thankyou perhaps or an open ended 'call me sometime' note with a fictitious phone number, but neither idea sat well with him, so he left without so much as a backwards glance.
Sam had driven the Impala back to the motel they were staying in so Dean and 'Angie'; that was her name…'Angie'; had taken a cab to her place. Looking around the darkened suburban street of Portland, Dean suddenly realised he had no idea where he was. He couldn't have even called for a taxi if he had wanted to because he didn't know what street Angie lived on, so he decided to start walking towards what looked like a main road and perhaps he would get lucky.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and started walking, his mind turning from the blonde he had just left to the auburn haired beauty who occupied more and more of his thoughts nowadays. After he had left Newport, he had called the Doc a couple of times to see how she was healing. A week later he had called again and Adam had told him that the Doc had taken Pat Shaughnessy back to Boston and would be gone for a little while.
Dean had called her mobile, leaving a few messages, but she hadn't gotten back to him. Occasionally she would send him abrupt one or two word text messages, but for the last week he hadn't even gotten that. When he was feeling his worst, he would call her phone from some anonymous payphone, just to listen to the rich voice on her voice mail talk to him.
Dean was beginning to believe that the Doc had no particular regard for him. He couldn't help thinking that she had looked out for him in the same way that she looked out for all of her foundlings and now that he no longer needed her help she had moved on. Dean felt heartsore as he walked towards the bright streetlights that he hoped heralded the main road.
He normally didn't form attachments to people. It wasn't in his training or in his nature, but despite it all he had formed an attachment to the Doc. The only other people that he had known with the same level of intimacy were Sam and his father, and the more he considered that the more he wondered how well he actually knew either of them.
In an unguarded moment, the Doc had pulled him into her mind, where he hadn't just seen her memories he had lived them. He felt the love she had for her family, he felt the horror and grief of their death, he felt the almost crippling remorse and he felt her desperate need for redemption.
As he walked, Dean replayed all of his memories with her, over and over in his mind. She had promised him that she would help him, had all but vowed that she would find him a solution and where had she gone? Anger flared within him, unbidden yet hot and volatile. She had made the promise and then disappeared. He was reasonable, he understood that she couldn't travel with them, but what would it have cost her to return a phone call? Check in once in a while, like she had made him promise to do?
As he walked Dean's gut churned. A heavy night of drinking and some sickening thoughts made him feel slightly nauseous. He looked down the mostly deserted road, and in the distance he spotted a gas station, the neon of the sign blaring like a beacon in the darkness surrounding it.
He headed towards the gas station, kicking at a plastic bottle that had been discarded on the sidewalk. As was often the way when his thoughts went down a troubling path, Dean ended up playing Devil's advocate for himself, where one half of his mind would think something and the other half would bring up all the arguments against it. It often left him more confused but it was a process that he couldn't seem to stop.
As the arguments circled in his head like angry vultures, a third idea sprung into his mind. What if the reason that the Doc hadn't called back was that she was injured, or perhaps worse, what if she had been killed? He felt sure that Adam would have called him with that kind of news but the doubt started to eat at him, ravenously. They were in a very dangerous business at a very dangerous time. Their lives were almost perpetually at risk, and the Doc didn't have the lifetime of training that Sam and he had.
Dean's stomach churned again in protest and his chest started to ache too as if his heart were being twisted in his chest cavity by some unseen hand. He was trying not to jump to conclusion, but he had to fight the impulse to grab his phone and call Adam immediately.
As if answering his impulse, his phone buzzed and vibrated in his pocket. He grabbed at it with impatient hands and opened it without looking at the caller id. He was almost sure that his worst fears were about to be confirmed.
"Hello" he said tensely
"Are you all right?"
The warm sincere concern curled around him as the accent announced who it was. But Dean had to ask just to pacify the heart that was thundering in his chest.
"Doc?"
"I was going to leave it later to call, but you had me really worried."
"I had you worried?" said Dean slightly incredulously
"I felt you in…" her voice seemed to falter slightly as she tried to articulate what it was "pain." she finished, but the tone of her voice showed that she was clearly unsatisfied with that banal description.
"I'm fine Doc." lied Dean, and the pause in the conversation told him that Hannah didn't quite believe him.
"Where have you been anyway?" asked Dean unable to keep the anger from touching his voice "I left you some messages, and I didn't hear from you for a month."
"Didn't you get my messages?" the Doc said trying to defend herself.
"A three word text message Doc doesn't really tell me much, and what about last week not a thing from you?"
Dean hated the way he sounded as he spoke, it reminded him of a spoilt child rather than a grown man, but his relief, his anger and some emotions that he couldn't quite identify bubbled inside of him making it difficult to remain rational.
As the Doc spoke she seemed slightly taken back at the vehemence in Dean's voice.
"I was in London last week, and I didn't have global roaming on my phone…I'm sorry."
Dean wanted to kick himself for the contrition that he heard in her voice. He hadn't meant to jump down her throat like that and in truth he was just so grateful that she was alive, and that she had bothered to call him at all.
"I was worried about you?" he said feeling suddenly shy. "What were you doing in London?"
"I was visiting an old Professor of mine" she said and Dean could hear the smile in her voice. I appeared that his admission of concern had earned him forgiveness for his earlier off hand remarks.
"I was hoping that he could help us with your little predicament. He is one of the foremost scholars on theology and demonology and if there is a loophole, he'll find it."
Dean felt like such a bastard for rousing on her. She hadn't been in contact with him because she had flown to a foreign country to try and help him. But something about that didn't sit well with him. A request like that could have been made in a letter, or over the phone or, in the age of the paperless office, on email.
"You flew all the way to England to ask him that?" asked Dean, praying that she would not take exception to his question.
"No not just that." she said pausing for a long moment. "It was Michael's birthday last week. I always go home on his birthday."
For a moment Dean was confused thinking of the Mike that they had rescued and ultimately lost in Rhode Island, then he realised the Doc had been referring to her brother.
"I'm sorry Doc?" Said Dean, feeling all the worse for his previous thoughts "How old would he have been?"
"Thirty two." she said in a quiet voice and Dean felt the pain that was not his own course through him.
"You'll be glad to know" Hannah said abruptly changing topics "That the demons don't seem to have crossed the Atlantic. I checked with my Professor if there was an increase in reported demonic activity in the UK or Europe and he seemed to think that there was nothing significant."
"I wonder what that means?" asked Dean half heartedly. He wasn't sure what he wanted to talk to Hannah about, but demon activity was certainly not on his list.
Seeming to sense his reluctance to 'talk shop', Hannah changed topics again.
"How's Sam?" she said, her voice filled with gentleness.
"To be honest" said Dean sounding tortured "I don't really know. He hasn't really spoken to me lately. I try and get him talking but the more I try the more he backs off. I can't help wondering if I've made a terrible mistake."
"What do you mean?" asked Hannah solicitously
Dean slumped down onto a bench at the bus stop near the gas station. He had been walking towards it, but now he just seemed exhausted and all he wanted to do was stretch out along the bench and go to sleep as Hannah spoke to him.
"Doc it's like this power he got when he killed Jay is torturing him from the inside out. He's moody and quiet and all he wants to do all the time is sleep. I've tried talking to him about it, but it just seems to make him angry." Dean sighed heavily, running his hand through the tangles of his hair "I don't know Doc, I'm not sure bringing him back was the best thing for him. I just don't know what else to do?"
"Give him time Dean" said Hannah quietly "Sam has many more gifts than I do and I remember myself when I first got them. I couldn't be in a crowded room, because I couldn't filter out anyone's thoughts or emotions. I would get flashes and premonitions so randomly that I couldn't do anything about them and you experienced first hand how well I manage my Pyrokenesis. Well take away 2 years of training myself and imagine how volatile I was."
"I wish you were here" said Dean before he could sensor himself "At least you'd understand what he was going through. Maybe even give him some advice. I don't have a clue. Dad just didn't prepare me for this."
"I think I have well and truly burnt my bridges with Sam." said Hannah regretfully
"Don't say that Doc." said Dean, the idea making him feel miserable "Sam doesn't hold grudges"
"It's not that" said Hannah "At the cottage Sam and I made a pact that he would act as a check and balance for me and I would do the same for him."
"What?" said Dean, beginning to understand but frightened of the ramifications of what Hannah was saying.
"Well they say that absolute power corrupts absolutely." said Hannah, almost matter-of-factly. "If that happens, Sam and I will act on the agreement that we made. He knows, even if it is only subconsciously, that one day we may need to go head to head to resolve any problems that might arise and that will always make my presence difficult for him to tolerate. He started distancing himself from me, the moment I tried to knock him out."
Dean remembered with razor blade clarity, Sam turning the gun on Hannah and the look of total mistrust on his brother's face. Although he wanted to reject what she was saying, he knew the truth of her words and that saddened him more than he could have possibly anticipated.
"That's not going to happen" said Dean resolutely.
"Probably not" said Hannah, but her voice showed she wasn't convinced "Sam's got you, that's a good anchor to have."
"And if it was going to happen to you" said Dean trying to be logical "it would have happened by now, wouldn't it?"
He wanted to say something more to her, explain that she could use him as an anchor too, but he realised that unless she felt that way of her own volition, that they were probably empty words. After all, what was Dean to her anyway but some guy whose path occasionally crossed her own.
"Perhaps" she said wistfully, but Dean caught the presence of fear in her words and knew that the prospect of being corrupted by her powers troubled her deeply.
"Where are you now?" said Dean secretly hoping that she was someone nearby and he could go and talk to her in the flesh.
"New York" she said quietly "You?"
"Portland" he said feeling the hopelessness swell within him again.
"My God" she uttered in surprised "It must be the middle of the night there."
"Just past 4am to be precise"
"Oh Dean" said Hannah apologetically "I'm so sorry I woke you. I'll let you go so you can get some sleep. I can't believe I thought you were in danger."
"It's alright" said Dean rapidly, afraid that she would hang up "It's actually nice to talk to someone who isn't Sam, Ellen or Bobby. Talk to me some more."
Hannah paused for a moment as if assessing whether she had been as far off the mark as she had originally thought and then she began chatting away realising that Dean needed this almost more than he needed sleep.
She told him how the cottage had been transformed into Fort Knox, with the introduction of four mercenary friends that Adam had bought in. They had been told that a fanatical religious group had made an attempt on the books and that there was a fear that they would try again.
She told him how Pat had taken the same line back to his work in Boston and circulated to all the major libraries and university's that an informant of his had told him that they would be going after specific books. The security on all the grimoires that Hannah wasn't able to get at had been doubled; probably not enough to stop a really determined demon, but enough to be a serious impediment.
She also told him how Pat, Helen, Joel and Mario had all vowed to help wherever they could. When Dean asked about Emily, Hannah went very quiet and Dean had expected to hear that she had taken her own life just as Mike had, but Hannah explained that they had been unable to find her after returning her to Harvard. Hannah had sounded extremely worried by this, but Dean tried his best to alleviate her fears, suggesting that she ask Pat to use his contacts and resources to try and track her down.
Dean looked at his watch and realised that nearly and hour had slipped by as they had been talking. He felt better than he had in a couple of weeks and his spirits rose even as his hangover descended. Reluctantly he bid Hannah goodbye, getting a promise from her that she would check in regularly. Then he hung up and went into the Gas Station to find out exactly where he was so he could call a taxi.
As he waited outside the Gas station, he threw a hand full of aspirins down his throat and took a sip of the coffee he had bought inside. The coffee tasted terrible, but it was warm and liquid, so it made him feel slightly better none the less. About ten minutes later his taxi showed up and after depositing the bottom half of his coffee in the trash, he jumped in the Taxi and gave the driver the name of the motel.
The taxi raced across town almost completely unimpeded by traffic in its predawn journey. Dean stared out the window, going over what the Doc had said to him, thinking of ways that he might be able to help Sam until finally, the blinking sign of his motel came into view. The driver pulled into the car park and Dean gave the Impala the once over with his eyes before pulling some bills out of his wallet and passing them to the driver.
As quietly as he could, he opened the door to the room that he and Sam shared and seeing his brother still asleep in one of the beds; he crept in and stretched out on the vacant bed. No doubt Sam would be up in an hour or two, but he would get as much sleep as he could until then. Feeling a slight high from all the aspirin he had taken, Dean drifted of to sleep with a languid English accent filling his thoughts.
Sam sat with his back against the wall and his feet poking through the rungs of the banister. Mary Winchester sat a few stairs up from where Sam was sitting and smiled down lovingly at her son. They had been meeting for over three weeks talking and exchanging stories. Mary seemed to like it best when Sam recounted storied from his childhood. He got the impression that she knew most of them already, but she just liked hearing it from him.
The endless maze of rooms and stair wells, were less intimidating now, he had been coming here nearly every night since they had left Rhode Island and he was beginning to love this place. Because it now reminded him of his mother, all of the insane interconnecting staircases and corridors full of empty room had lost their sinister quality. Sam never ventured too far from the main stairwell, because that was where Mary was.
Every now and then the entity that Sam had begun calling Mike would show up. The creature had appeared to Sam in a couple of forms, but it seemed to favour the form of the young man who they had rescued in Rhode Island. As the creature rightly pointed out, Mike had taken his own life, so he no longer needed the visage.
More often than not it was just Mary who waited patiently at the bottomless stairwell. Sam looked forward to seeing her, she just sat and listened to him, offering him maternal advice or suggestions, but usually she just let him talk. Sam was thankful for it. When he was awake he felt so alone.
Dean was with him, but he hadn't felt as connected with Dean recently as he usually did. Their relationship had kind of gone off the rails since Rhode Island and Sam didn't know how to make it right, so he did nothing and just retreated further into the realm that he shared with his mother.
He inhaled deeply, letting the air out on a long sigh as Mary Winchester sat with him patiently.
"I don't know mom." said Sam "I wanted to go out and enjoy myself. I just feel so …"
There were no words for what he wanted to say. Every word he chose seemed to be such an inadequate choice.
"Different?" supplied Mary encouragingly.
"Sort of" said Sam "But it is more than that. I'm a 'chosen', whatever that means, and all I see when I looked at those people in the bar is that they weren't chosen. I know this sounds terrible but it kind of made me feel more important than all of those people. I know that my life is no more or no less valuable than any of theirs, but I couldn't quite stop myself thinking that."
"That's not terrible Sam." said Mary stroking a gentle hand over his hair "It is honest. The fact of the matter is that you are different and you are special. The harsh reality of this world is that some people will come into it and leave it without making an impact, and for others they can't help but make and impact. You are destined to make and impact Sam. I knew it from the day you were born."
Sam looked at his mother with pleading eyes. He wasn't sure that this is what he was looking for from her, but he couldn't quite bring himself to argue either.
"It is human nature to want all life to be sacred, everybody's lives to be equal in worth. But unfortunately they're not." continued Mary seeing the pained look on her son's face.
"Alright, think of it this way" said Mary her voice gentle "If you were at the scene of an accident and you could only save one of the two victims, would you save 'the mother of three' that is in the red car or the 'heart surgeon' that is in the blue car."
"I guess I'd have to say the heart surgeon." said Sam, unsure of exactly how he felt about this whole discussion.
"Why?" asked Mary patiently
"Because he can save other peoples lives." said Sam, feeling that was an unnecessary explanation.
"And by virtue of what he can do for others his life is more valuable that the 'mother of three'. It is a very sad reality Sam, but it is a reality none the less."
Mary Winchester smiled warmly at her son and air of pride making her jade eyes sparkle. "And you my dear boy, with all of your gifts and all of your powers have the potential to save many lives, just like the 'heart surgeon'."
Sam sat silent for a moment, as his mood shifted subtly from confusion to suspicion.
"Mom" he began his voice slightly shaky "I have to ask you something. It has been worrying me since you showed up and I wanted to ask you but…."
"Sweetheart" said Mary softly "You know you can ask me anything."
Sam looked at his mother now, as she sat with her blonde hair about her shoulders, her kind face looking down at him and her sincere green eyes. She was dressed in the white night gown that he had always seen her in and she looked somehow innocent.
"The yellow eyed demon showed me what happened on the night that you died." Sam began, watching his mother closely "when you came into the room and saw him, you recognised him…Why?"
Mary Winchester's face showed pain, but she smiled at her son in spite of it. Again she ran her hand over her son's hair and looked at him through eyes that were welling up with tears.
"I wondered when this would come up." she said on a drawn out sigh "To be honest, I', kind of glad that you asked. I really want you to understand Sam."
Mary Winchester took a long measured breath as if the pause allowed her the time to choose her words very carefully. "Your father and I had known each other in high school. We didn't really date until senior year, but I knew from that moment that he was the man I was going to marry. When we graduated, your father was drafted into the marine core and was sent to Vietnam."
Mary stopped for a moment and ran her hands over her night gown, smoothing the fabric over her legs in a measured motion. Sam had noticed that she did that when she was battling with her emotions and he realised that this was very difficult for her.
"Your father did two tours towards the end of the war. They were pulling the American troops out when your father's platoon was sent to escort aid workers out of some village in the rural provinces. While they did this they were attacked and your father was almost killed."
Sam looked at his mother with wide eyes; this was something that he had never known about his father, a side that he had kept silent on throughout their entire childhood.
"Your father was very badly wounded, but someone managed to carry him out and they sent him back to the states for medical treatment. The doctors at the VA hospital didn't think he was going to make it, but I knew he had to. I don't think I would have survived if he had died."
Mary sat slightly taller on the stair, pausing to compose herself. "I sat by your father's side day and night. They tried to make me leave, but no force on this earth could have moved me. I stayed there and I held his hand and I prayed to anyone who would listen. Nothing seemed to help" Mary nearly choked on the words as the memories of the pain at the time seemed to fill her.
"I got down on my knees and I promised god anything if he would only let your father live. But god didn't answer" said Mary a hint of bitterness tainting her melodic voice.
"But the yellow eyed demon did" supplied Sam guessing what had happened "You made a deal with him so that Dad would live."
Mary looked at her son, the guilt evident on her face "I just couldn't loose him then, not when our lives had only just begun."
"What did you promise him?" asked Sam as Mary dropped her eyes to the floor "What did you promise him mom?"
"I promised him anything he wanted" she whispered her eyes downcast. "I always thought he would extract his price from me. I never thought he would go after one of my children. I would never have made the deal if I had known."
Sam watched his mother, feeling both anger and sympathy at her situation. "Why did he pick me and not Dean?"
His mother looked up at this and cupped Sam's cheek a tear rolling down her face as she smiled at her youngest son.
"Because you are like me Sam." she said smiling at him with clear affection "Dean was always like John, even when he was a baby, I knew he would grow up to be just as stubborn and headstrong and audacious as John, but you Sam, you were like me. You were born gifted. I knew from the moment they let me hold you that you had inherited my family's ability. You never cried, but I always knew what you needed. You were such and intense little baby, when you looked at people it was like you were looking at their soul."
Sam looked at his mother feeling slightly confused "What do you mean your family's ability? Mom were you psychic in some way?"
Mary nodded her head slowly and watched her son's reaction. She had been psychic, not nearly at the same level as Sam, but enough to attract a demon's attention.
"The yellow eyed demon said that he hadn't meant to kill you that night. What happened mom?"
Mary smiled and this time it touched her eyes "When I saw him leaning over your crib and I realised who he was. I didn't really think, I just reacted and I attacked him."
Sam's eyes widened as he begun to comprehend what happened that night "You attacked him psychically and he fought back."
"I couldn't let him hurt my baby boy. Not for a mistake that I had made."
Sam's eyes welled with tears. He couldn't believe it. His mother had died trying to protect him from the evil that she had introduced into their lives. It felt like the plot of a Shakespearian tragedy.
"I am so sorry Sam." said Mary weeping quietly as she looked at her youngest son.
Sam felt heartsore as he reached up and embraced his mother. He was half way between anger and regret and did not know which way his heart was leading him, but at least now he understood why it had been him. A piece of the puzzle that had been tormenting him fell into place.
"Oh isn't this touching." said a voice behind them and Sam swung around, turning angry eyes on Mike who stood at the bottom of the stairs looking on at the private moment between mother and son without remorse.
"What do you want Mike?" said Sam through clenched teeth.
Mike's face changed from its usual pleasant to a mock frown. "What no 'Hi! How ya going Mike?'. Sam I'm hurt…where's the love?"
Sam stared at the young man impatiently, still with his hands wrapped protectively around his mother's slight frame.
"Don't try me Mike" said Sam his anger evident "I'm not in the mood."
Mike immediately looked contrite, but Sam new it was insincere. He accepted that Mike's presence was a necessary consequence of having his mother with him, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
"I just thought you better know" said Mike shuffling his feet and doing his best impression of a school boy in the headmaster's office. "Beleth has sent Thammuz out to do his worst."
Sam looked at Mike his eyes narrowing on the young man "I'm not sure I know what that means Mike?"
Mike looked up at Sam holding his eyes "Since you destroyed Asbeel a few weeks ago, there is a new power struggle going on and Beleth is one of the players. If Thammuz can go out and recruit to Beleth's cause he will most likely win."
Sam took his hands from around his mother and sat down on the step so that he was now eyelevel with Mike. "Explain it to me Mike, who are these people?"
Mike took a heavy sigh and sat down on the bottom step
"Not people" he said slightly impatiently "Demons! Alright…Demonology 101. God's power is defined by one thing; how many people have faith in him. Well a demon's power is no different, but rather than doing things that illicit faith, a demon, by its nature, manipulates a follower into doing their bidding. The more successful they are as a manipulator, the more powerful they become in the hierarchy of hell. You get it?"
Sam nodded slightly and studied Mike as he continued.
"Beleth is one of the most powerful Kings of the second circle of hell and when the gate were open, Beleth decided to come out and play and he bought his enforcer Thammuz with him."
"Thammuz?" questioned Sam slightly.
"Yeah, one of his enforcers." repeated Mike with slight irritation "He isn't really a very powerful demon in his own right, but attached to Beleth, he is a formidable weapon."
"How so?" asked Sam
"Well he has a very affective way of manipulating people. He's thrown a few parties that you may remember…the Spanish Inquisition, Auschwitz, Cambodia."
"He manipulates people via torture." surmised Sam
"Give the man a gold medal." said Mike in a phoney game show presenters voice
"If he is that good at what he does, then why doesn't he make a go for power?" asked Sam, desperate to understand this world.
"Because once he has a person's allegiance he doesn't know what to do with it. He get's off on the torture part, gaining allegiance just means that the torture ends and he finds that disappointing. With Beleth though, he can pass on the converted and move on to the next victim without any bigger picture interrupting his fun."
"Sounds like a reel charmer" said Sam sardonically "Who's the other player in the power struggle?"
"I don't honestly know yet" said Mike with a shrug "They are playing it fairly cagey."
"Do you know where this Thammuz is?" asked Sam
"Yeah" said Mike with a smile touching his lips "Reno."
"Reno?" said Sam lifting his eyebrow in surprise.
"Makes sense doesn't it?" said Mike with a slight shrug "If you were a torturer looking for victims, wouldn't you be attracted to a place where people tend to torture themselves?"
Sam had to concede begrudgingly that it did make sense, even if it had come from Mike.
"This all sounds really nice Mike, but why should I believe you?" said Sam, his voice turning suddenly hostile.
"Oh come on!" said Mike exasperated "What do I have to do Sam? I've told you I'm a friend, I told you what Asbeel was planning, I bring your mother to you every damn night! What more do I have to do before you will at least trust me a little?"
"Tell me what you get out of all this." said Sam, his voice icy cold and disquietingly calm.
Mike looked at him with wide eyed surprise for a moment and then shook his head resigning himself to having to confess the truth. "You want the truth? OK, the truth is that currently I'm a little fish in a big fucking pond and each big fish that you get rid of, means one less big fish I have to keep in my sites. I'm doing all this for a little self preservation…sue me!"
Sam was surprised by the candidness of Mike's answer, but he wasn't sure why.
"Finally" he said with a smile in his voice "Something that I can believe."
"I got to go." said Mike, sounding disgusted. He didn't say farewell, he didn't even look behind him as he left he just disappeared into one of the shadows of a staircase.
Sam looked back at his mother, who had remained silent as she had listened to them talk.
"I believe him." said Mary quietly studying her son.
He smiled at his mother for the look of concern that was on her face. It was nice to know that somebody cared.
"Yeah" he said grudgingly "I think I do too. But even if he is lying, it's a lead and we have to go and check it out."
Sam leaned forward and placed a kiss on the soft skin of his mother's cheek.
"I'll see you soon mom, Ok?"
"Be safe Sam. Take care of your brother."
With that Sam willed himself to come awake, with his mother's voice ringing in his head. He had discovered that he could do this when all of Mike's weird and wonderful ways of exiting his dream state started to involve fighting large vicious animals, of throwing himself off high precarious places.
Sam felt the bed solid under his back and a destination on his lips. 'Reno'. He looked over and to his surprise, saw Dean fast asleep in the other bed. He was still fully clothed but at least he was there. That would make their departure all the more expedient. He sat up deciding that he would let Dean sleep on while he took a shower, but as soon as he was finished he was going to insist that they hit the road to Reno.
