Supernatural: The Magnificent Seven
A/N: I'm back with season three of Supernatural! Well, my version of it anyways, but that's beside the point. Any how, I hope you all enjoy this next installment of the adventures of the Winchesters trying to keep Liz from going downstairs when her year is up.
Read, review, and enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural or Criminal Minds. I just own any and all characters that I just happen create.
PROLOGUE: ESCAPE
"Shall they escape by iniquity? In thine anger cast down the people, O God."
Psalm 56: 7
"Everyone! Get into the basement, the barrier has been breached!"
"Move! Move!"
"Hurry!"
Clutching the book to her chest, Liz followed the crowd into the basement, staggering on the stairs when the whole place shook, and others screamed in fright; she reached the room and was greeted by her husband.
"You made it!"
"Just barely," he responded, hugging her. "Hurry, we must get inside the panic room."
Holding hands, they hurried to join the rest.
A while later, Liz found a place to sit while her husband helped with organizing the supplies for the fifty men, women, and children once the room was sealed.
She opened the book, found where she'd left off and resumed writing.
I wish it could've been over once Azazel was dead, but it wasn't over…not yet. When the gate first opened, over a hundred demons managed to escape from the pit, and there was also the manner of my deal.
Oak Park, Illinois
April 27, 2007…
It was nighttime in a quiet neighborhood of nicely kept houses, a man in his thirties, with red hair and a beard, exited one of the houses with a bag of garbage. He paused next to his dusty car and glanced over at the shiny new car in his neighbor's driveway. He glanced at his own car, sighed, and then walked over to the garbage cans and stuffed it in one of them.
As he walked back to the house, the garbage cans began rattling. He stopped, turned and stared, walking cautiously towards them as they continued to rattle. He looked at the street lamps as they began flickering repeatedly. Hearing thunder, he looked up and saw a demonic cloud swirling toward the Chicago skyline in the distance.
At that exact moment, a tendril of demonic smoke broke off from the rest, and it headed directly toward him while the rest headed for the city. Panicked, he ran back towards the house, almost crashing into the garbage cans, but the smoke knocked him down before he could get there.
The demonic smoke poured into his mouth as he screamed for several hour-long seconds before going quiet. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and they were black. The now-possessed man stood, looked towards the rest of the demonic cloud that was now streaming towards Chicago, and he smiled. He was free!
Federal Correctional Complex
Terre Haute, Indiana
Two weeks later…
It was a semi-cloudy day and the local federal prison was preparing for a prisoner transfer. Woody Sheppard had been doing transfers for twenty years, and he always double-checked every little detail, not taking any chances.
"O'Connell, James?"
"Check."
"Dooley, Lance?"
"Check."
"Grayson, Clark?"
"Check."
"Lopez, Scott?"
"Check."
"Gomez, Brenden?"
"Check."
"Walker, Gordon?"
"Check."
Woody checked off the last name on the list as he walked down the aisle between the bus seats and watched closely as the six prisoners were cuffed to the seats, and nodded as extra chains were placed on Gordon.
"Light load today," he remarked, leaning out the door and handed the paperwork to Allen Foster.
"Yup, with one being picked up in Lexington," Allen added, taking the clipboard. "Have a safe trip."
"Will do."
Once the doors were shut, Woody spoke to the driver, Luis Smith through the security wall. "We're secured back here, let's roll out."
"Rolling."
Woody sat back in his seat and rolled his eyes when he saw that his young partner, David Ringer, had his baton out and was eying the six prisoners. "Put that away, Ringer, you don't need it."
"You sure about that, Sheppard? They seem rowdy to me," David retorted, gripping his baton tightly.
"Trust me, Ringer, they're secured," Woody stated and mentally sighed when the younger man finally put the baton away. 'I'd wish they'd put this jerk elsewhere.'
David had originally been a guard at the Logansport State Hospital until he was caught terrorizing the patients in the forensic unit and, instead of being fired, was transferred to the Federal Correction Complex at the request of his uncle, State Senator Franklin Ringer.
Once he was certain that David wasn't going to do anything stupid, Woody sat back in his seat and kept an eye on the prisoners, particularly on Gordon.
Gordon had been brought to the prison almost a year ago after attempting to kill a group of people, which included two federal agents, and it was likely he would get the death penalty on top of the other charges of murder, torture, and threatening the same two feds that he'd almost killed. Basically he had more charges than even bin Laden himself.
When Gordon first arrived, he'd kept to himself, stayed out of trouble, and had very few visitors;. However that all changed a month ago when it was learned that his main visitor, a guy named Kubrick, was responsible for the death of a young man named Scott Carey, and was now wanted by the feds.
Gordon's visitation rights were revoke to the point that he could only talk with his lawyer;. He hadn't liked this and started picking fights with the other prisoners and the guards, and was locked in solitary confinement repeatedly just to protect the prison population.
Now he was being transferred to stand trial in a federal court, and Woody was perfectly content to be rid of him.
Two hours later, one of the prisoners, Brenden, broke the silence.
"Hey! Think we can have some music?"
Woody glanced through the barrier. "What'd you think, Luis?"
"I can do that," Luis agreed. "But I don't want any complaints back there; I'm the driver and I choose the music." He then turned on the radio and country music began playing.
Woody was checking his watch when he heard Luis mutter a curse. "What is it?" he asked, getting out of his seat.
"I got some jerk in a black pickup truck tailgating me," Luis complained. "He thinks that I'm gonna speed up for him or somethin', which I won't."
Woody chuckled and sat back down. "His lost."
"Oh yea- Whoa!"
At that exact moment, the pickup zoomed around the bus, where three more trucks joined it, and then all four hit their brakes and then turned so that they were blocking the street.
Cursing loudly, Luis hit his own brakes and twisted the wheels so that the bus served, making everyone sway, and fought to keep it upright-
KABOOM!
Woody suddenly found himself airborne when the explosion made the bus flip into the air. Everything spun around him as the bus rolled, and then landed against the side that was now the floor hard.
"Ngh!" he moaned, hearing and feeling the bones in his right arm break; he lay there, gasping and crying in pain, and he could smell smoke and heard coughing, groaning, and the rattling of chains.
Woody was about to speak when he heard a pair of cuffs hit the ground and he also heard David shout.
"Hey! What're you think you're-"
BANG!
Woody cringed at the gunshot, his ears ringing as he saw the young man crumbled to the ground, dead, and he also saw Gordon standing before him, freed of his chains with a gun in his hand.
The two men stared at each other for several seconds among the groans and the smoke, and then Gordon turned and left through the back exit, kicking the door off its' damaged hinges.
Outside, eight men jumped out of the trucks when they saw Gordon emerged from the totaled bus, and one of them ran up with a jacket to wear over the top of his orange jumpsuit.
"Here you go, Gordon. For a second we thought you were dead."
"I'm not that easy to kill off, Kirk," Gordon told him as he pulled the jacket on and they headed for the nearest truck. "Come on, we've got work to do."
Several hours later, Derek Morgan was at the crash site, with Emily Prentiss, and neither were happy campers. They were still reeling from the disastrous case at the college, Hotch almost leaving, and Gideon disappearing.
"What happen?" Morgan asked the local detective. "And how did they know the route that the bus would take?"
"We're still piecing it together, sir," the detective answered. "But, it looked like they placed a bomb on the underside of the bus with a pressure plate that triggered when the bus suddenly turned and shifted to avoid the trucks."
"What about the guards and prisoners on the bus?" Emily asked, nodding to the various ambulances in the area. "Any fatalities?"
"Luis Smith, the driver, is in a coma," the detective reported. "Woody Sheppard, one of the guards, has a broken arm and a concussion; the remaining prisoners are all banged up with cuts, bruises, pulled muscles, and a few broken hands and wrists. The second guard David Ringer, shot dead by his own gun according to both Woody and the prisoners… and this was found."
He showed them an evidence bag that had a metal pick in it. "Looks like Walker hid it in his mouth."
'One more charge to throw against this bastard,' Morgan thought sourly. "All right, Prentiss go through all of the statements, talk with the guard and the prisoners, I'm gonna call Hotch and the Winchesters."
"All right."
Morgan turned away and made the call. "Hotch? It's Morgan, we've got a problem."
"You're serious, Hotch? Gordon escaped?" Sam Winchester asked, lying on the hood of the Impala with a thick book about demon deals. It'd been two weeks since the incident with the Devil's Gate and killing Azazel with the final bullet in the Colt.
`"Unfortunately yes,"` Hotch confirmed. `"Garcia's going through the traffic cam footage to see if she can get images of the unsubs involved, and both Morgan and I will be talking to the lawyer. How're you guys doing?"`
"We're doin' all right," Sam answered, glancing at the window to a motel room, where Dean, who was wearing an undershirt and sweatpants, grinned and gave him a double-thumbs up, at which Sam shook his head, smiling fondly. Dean then closed the curtains as a hot girl came into view, and he began undressing her while dancing. "I'm still researchin' on finding a way to get Liz out of her deal and both she and I are sleepin' in the car…again."
`"Again?"` Hotch repeated, surprised. `"Isn't that three times this week?"`
"It is," Sam confirmed sighing. "Liz made it clear that this is the last time though. Hotch, does Penelope have anything on the missing people?"
`"Nothing."`
Sam sighed. "Same here on the demon front."
Over a hundred demons had escaped from the Devil's Gate several weeks ago and in that time, men and women from seventeen different cities had disappeared, and yet there was no sign of where they were now.
`"Everything will work out, Sam,"` Hotch promised, `"and that does include getting Liz out of her deal."`
"I hope so," Sam agreed and said goodbye before clicking his phone off; he twisted slightly and peered through the windshield at Liz, who was asleep in the backseat. 'I'll save you, Liz, I promise!' Repositioning himself, he opened the book and began reading when his phone rang again.
Sam answered his phone when he saw Bobby's name on the screen. "Hey, Bobby."
`"Hey, Sam,"` Bobby responded. `"You hear about Gordon?"`
"Yeah, I just spoke with Hotch," Sam answered, turning a page.
Bobby could hear the paper crinkle and he sighed. `"Sam, you're still lookin' through that book? You've already read it twice."`
"I know that, Bobby, but I only got a year before Liz becomes dog chow," Sam stated, "and I intend to save my sister."
`"I know, I know,"` Bobby agreed unhappily. `"How're Dean and Liz doing?"`
"Well, Liz and I are sleepin' in the car again," Sam answered. "And Dean's flirtin' with a couple of girls in the motel room."
`"Again?"`
"That was Hotch's reaction, too," Sam remarked. "The way that Dean's actin' would make one think that he made the deal instead of Liz."
Bobby chuckled `"I hear, ya; anyway, you guys better pack it up. I think I finally found something."`
"What about Ellen and Jo?" Sam asked.
`"They're dealin' with a case in North Carolina,"` Bobby told him. `"And this case might help us find that demon army."`
"All right, we'll meet you there, Bobby."
`"Thanks."`
Sam pocketed his phone, slid off the hood, and put the book away. He knocked on the door loud enough to be heard over the music. "Dean?" he entered the room. "Dean, you – you conscious? Bobby called, and he thinks that maybe we-" he then saw something that made him choke. "Oh, god." And he quickly shut the door and fled.
A petite young woman with blonde hair that flowed over her shoulders, green eyes, and was wearing a gray jacket over a dark blue blouse and a silver necklace with a heart pendent, blue jeans, and black trainers, walked through the Forest of Dean until she reached a small clearing.
Kneeling in front of a medium sized stone that was covered with moss, she reached out and removed the moss, revealing it to be a grave marker with Latin words written on it.
'My human bones,' she thought, pacing a single pink rose on it, and stood up. She was the only one still alive who knew where this grave was, and she intended to keep it that way for a long time. 'Time to get to work.'
"So what's the plan, Gordon?"
Gordon, who was now dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and boots, was pinning up articles next to a map of the United States that was covered with colored pins, red string, and photos. "The plan is to track down the Winchesters and any other freaks that are still alive, and eliminate them like the monsters they are."
When he'd seen the news report about the dozens of missing persons suddenly reappearing them, all of them dead, and all around the same age, he'd started researching and had given letters to his lawyer to mail for him.
This had been a good move on Gordon's part for the day after the Wyoming incident, he'd learned that the FBI had pegged Kubrick for the death of Scott Casey, and he was stripped of his visitation rights to the point that he could only see his lawyer.
He'd been pissed and had lashed out at the guards and the other prisoners for the next two weeks, resulting with him being locked up in solitary confinement.
Now Gordon was freed and was on a mission to finish what he'd started. "Talk to me about the incident in Wyoming."
"The Winchesters were definitely there when the Devil's Gate open," a man named Hawkeye reported, "along with Bobby Singer, Ellen Hartville and her daughter, Jo, a group of people from Utah, and that FBI team."
"Did Sam Winchester open the gate?" Gordon asked.
"No, it was a guy named Jake Talley," Hawkeye corrected, tapping a photo of Jake. "The reports are a bit sketchy, but he appeared to be one of the special children and used the Colt made by Samuel Colt to open the Gate."
"The actual Colt?" another hunter named Creedy asked.
Hawkeye nodded. "Yeah and from the looks of things, the Winchesters used the final bullet to kill the demon that John Winchester had been hunting before he died."
Gordon pondered all of this. "You said that there was a group from Utah there?"
"There was."
"Do research on them and figure out their connection to the Winchesters," Gordon instructed, turning his attention to the selection of confirmed dead photos. "Also, send out instructions to have the Winchesters found and detained, and start a search for any other connection between these victims and see if there's any others who might've died within the last two years."
"I'll get right on it."
At the headquarters of the FBI, Victor Henriksen was sorting through reports about possible sightings of the Winchesters, and was trying to figure out which were real and which were red herrings. He'd already spent two weeks down in Mexico and he didn't want to repeat that experience.
"I think I got something, sir," said one of the agents that were seated at a computer.
"Talk to me," said Henriksen, walking over.
"I came across a missing person report that was filed two to three weeks ago in Provo, Utah," the agent reported. "A pair of twins named Hannah and Ricky Idris were kidnapped while on their way to work, and then were found alive and relatively unharmed by their father, Elvis Idris, their grandfather, Lloyd Idris, their friend, Johnny Gideon, and there's also a description of three other people, which matches the Winchesters to a 'T'."
Henriksen raised his eyebrows at this. "Hm, didn't the Winchesters spend several months in that state?"
"They did, sir."
"All right, get me everything that you can on the Idris family," Henriksen ordered, "and find out whether they have a connection to the Winchesters and what they've been doing since."
Defense lawyer, Olivia St. Claire, was organizing some paperwork when there was a knock on her office door. "Enter."
The door opened and both Hotch and Morgan entered. "Ms. St. Claire? I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner and this is Special Agent Derek Morgan, we're here to talk to you about your client Gordon Walker."
"Ex-client," Olivia corrected, "and call me Olivia, gentlemen. Please sit and I'll give you all the help that I can."
Morgan and Hotch both sat in the offered chairs.
"You referred to Walker as an ex-client," said Morgan, "almost as if you regret taking on his case."
"I do regret it," Olivia confirmed. "When I was first assigned his case, I thought it'd be the usual…that is until I looked through the file and was floored by the list of charges, and I realized that this man shouldn't see the light of day again."
This got the feds attention.
"That's interesting in itself," Hotch agreed. "However, what we need is everything that you have on Gordon Walker, what he was doing prior to his escape."
"I can do better than that," said Olivia, handing him a large manila envelope. "In this are copies of everything that Gordon read, watched, and did before and after his visitation rights were revoked."
Hotch accepted the envelope and handed it to Morgan, who immediately opened it and began scanning the contents. "I'm surprised that you're being so helpful."
"Like I said before, Gordon's one of those people who should never see the light of day," Olivia explained. "My little sister, Mel, used to be married to a man like Gordon, and he abused her to the point that she tried to kill herself. Now she's a full-time patient at the state hospital in Logansport and is also on suicide watch, and that bastard is dead and buried."
"Thank you for your help, Olivia," said Hotch gratefully. "If you think of anything else…"
"You'll be the first to know."
A/N: And that's it for the prologue, I hope you all enjoy reading it, 'cause it wasn't that easy for me to write, and my muse ran away with it a few times, so it went in a few interesting directions. R&R everyone!