Summary: Jo and Ash encounter the 'demonic' brothers.
Evil Forever by frostygossamer
PoV: Ash, genius MIT dropout, free taxi service
I was just putting the finishing touches to my latest badass web crawler, when Jo turned up looking a mite worn, and with a 6-inch gash in her right forearm.
Ellen insisted she needed a ride to the hospital, and I was only on my second PBR of the night, so I got 'volunteered'. Still, Jo is a nice kid, I don't exactly mind spending a little one-to-one time with my favourite girl hunter.
We drove down to the nearby clinic, a little two-hander place where they didn't ask many questions, owing to the senior guy being a little sweet on Ellen.
I parked and we wandered in, giving Jo's cover story at the front desk. I went and sat in the waiting area. Jo joined me after a minute. I know Jo was hoping to see the younger doc. She'd got a kinda micro-crush on the guy. I thought he was a smart ass.
My eyes were wandering, taking in the handful of assorted weirdos in the waiting room. That's why Jo saw them first. I noticed the widening of her brown eyes and I flipped round to face the entrance.
Two tall guys where standing at the reception desk, both in black dusters, with hair scraped back into ponytails and black half-masks, like freakin' masquerade characters. Badass masquerade characters.
The automatic doors opened with a swish, and two more guys entered, followed by two more dusters. The swhoosh of the doors blew back the duster of one of the guys at the desk, partially revealing the unmistakable shape of a pump-action shotgun.
I cursed silently. "Trouble", I whispered to the back of Jo's head.
Guys three and four weren't dressed like the others. One wore a leather jacket and the other, a tall, lanky kid, was wearing a plaid shirt. Guess they weren't there when they were handing out the uniform.
Seeing reception occupied by the badasses, Three turned on his heal and tried to leave. Four grabbed his collar and hauled him back, "Remember the kick in the head", I heard him snarl. But, in turning, Three had noticed the two dusters behind. The smile on his face clouded. Five and Six marched Three and Four over and made them sit on the row of bolted-down chairs against the back wall, standing either side, clearly those guys hadn't gotten quite up to speed with the big plan.
Those guys' faces looked familiar, but I couldn't place them straight off.
It was then that the shotguns came out. Firing two rounds into the ceiling, the duster guys ran around herding everyone in the waiting area, and doctor's offices, into a corner, cursing and pushing shotgun barrels into our faces.
I motioned to Jo to keep her head down. "We sure as hell don't need this kind of trouble", I hissed.
Five minutes later we were all sitting on our butts on the floor, with our hands on our heads, cell phones and any apparent weapons confiscated.
"Why the hell did I let you talk me into leaving my guns in the car?", Jo demanded in a stage whisper.
Suddenly the light came on in my head.
"You know who those guys are, those two guys sitting across from the front desk?", I asked her.
"Who?", she responded sharply.
"Winchesters", I replied.
"Oh God", Jo gasped. "That's all we need."
PoV: Dean Winchester, son of John, protector of Sam, killer
There was no way Sam would have gotten me into a hospital at all, if the smack I took to the head hadn't made me kinda dopey. Hospitals are so not my thing. I was like a nervy Rottweiler at the veterinarian's. As soon as we walked through the doors I was ready to walk out again.
"Dean, remember the freakin' bump on your head", Sam hissed. The boy was kinda concerned. There was no way he was gonna drive me back to the motel without a once-over by the doc.
"Concussion can be nasty", he said. So I sucked it up. Even though I felt fine.
Being as we're kinda cursed, naturally something was gonna go wrong.
And, sure enough, there were four of them. I gave my Sam a stare that said "Stay cool. We'll just ride this one out." Sam wasn't gonna argue. So we sat down and waited, watched and waited.
"What the hell are they waiting for?", Sam hissed after a half hour.
The nearest ponytail growled, "The Master is coming."
We looked at each other, Sam raising an eyebrow in question. "Don't tell me it's a Dr. Who convention."
The ponytails were beginning to get agitated. Apparently their Master's arrival was imminent.
The wind was picking up outside, or at least something was throwing a gale at the walls and windows. And something in the storm felt wrong, felt unnatural, maybe even supernatural.
Howling around the parking lot and through the doors, a rush of air, fire and blackness circled the room, bringing with it a sound like strangled fear and haunting regret. I so recognised that sound. The Master was near.
He was some disappointment when he finally arrived, a frail, old, bald guy, leaning on a cane. He did kinda look like he belonged in a hospital.
The four ponytails bowed low as he entered, muttering humble greetings, like he was some Mafia don. But he looked kinda Greek to me.
The old guy smacked his cane down on the parquet, like some Broadway dance master, and glared round the place. He signalled to one of his minions, who grabbed a young girl from off of the floor of the waiting room. He dragged her savagely by the upper arm, right up to the old guy, who peered at her through presbyopic eyes.
Methuselah cupped her pretty chin in his hand, like a friendly yet slightly creepy old uncle, just for a moment. It only took a few seconds for her face to disintegrate, before the wrinkles formed and crinkled, and her youthful complexion turned into the prune-face of a hundred year old grammy. She wasn't dead. She was just old, way old.
"Now that's not normal", I observed wryly.
For a while the only sound was of the pathetic girl's weeping.
"Crap!", Sam exclaimed suddenly, making me jump. "I know who this guy must be, Dean."
I looked at him. Sometimes you gotta marvel at the way my little brother can just come up with the dope on stuff, right off the toppa his head. You've gotta love that about my Sammy.
"OK, Einstein", I encouraged him. "Spill."
"I think he's Geras or Senectus, the spirit of old age. He's the son of Night and Hades, and he's one malevolent spirit."
"So he's come here to what?", I asked, still puzzled.
"I guess he's come here to strike down someone with old age, suck the youth right outa some unlucky bastard", he offered.
"In person?", I asked. "Hell, Sam, there's a lotta oldsters around. He's not gonna visit every one once a month on payday to keep up the treatments, now is he?"
"Well, I guess maybe someone has reneged on a deal", he said. "Maybe he owes someone a special hands-on job."
I chuckled. "This is really one sucker we've gota gank, Sam", I suggested. "Hell, we owe that to the world, babe. He is one plague on humanity that we can sure do without. You with me?"
He nodded. Yeah, he was always with me. That's my Sammy.
PoV: Jo Harvelle, Daughter of Ellen and Bill, famous girl hunter
It made my stomach turn over, seeing that girl's face shrivel right there. It so could have been me!
"What the Hell are we dealing with here?", I asked Ash, unnerved.
He looked at me sheepishly. "Hell if I know.", he admitted. "But I'd kinda guess it's somethin' nasty."
I looked across him, counting the innocent hostages in the room. Maybe 15, 16?
"We gotta find some way to get these folks outa here, before this son of a bitch sucks the life force outa every one of them", I told him.
People began to cry. Civilians don't get to see that kinda scariness day to day. Those that do generally die.
"Listen, Ash", I hissed. "We gotta get these poor lambs to the slaughter outa here. After that performance I know the guy's not gonna leave witnesses."
"Yeah", he replied. "Look, Jo, I think our only chance is to get everyone into the chapel. Maybe the Hoodoo of the Lord will hold up the badasses a while and give us a chance to think."
"OK", I replied. "What we need is to create a diversion. Hell, I wish I had my piece. All I've got is my knife", slipping it outa my boot.
I stood up. The nearest duster came straight at me. He prodded me with his shotgun barrel.
"Sit!", he snarled. I leant toward him and pressed the sharp tip of my knife to his balls.
"Oh, yeah?", I said. "You wanna say that again? Maybe a little higher?"
He grabbed at my hand and I grabbed for his gun. We scuffled and the noise brought his friends across the room. People jumped up, panicking and the bad guys lost control for a moment. Ash took the opportunity to shepherd the panicky crowd toward the chapel.
He managed to slam the door before the situation calmed. I was outside, restrained and disarmed. It was just me and seven bad guys. Poor odds, I didn't reckon my chances.
PoV: Dean Winchester, son of John, protector of Sam, killer
"Odds just got better", I whispered to Sam. "You, me and the wildcat there against Gramps and his four bad boys. Not bad."
"I know her", he said doubtfully. "She reminds me kinda of Dad's old pal Bill. You remember Bill Harvelle? He had a daughter. Joanna? Jo?"
I winced. "Then she'll be no friend of ours", I pointed out.
Right then the ponytail nearest to me, irritated by our whispered conversation, grunted "Shuddup!" and made to butt-swipe me with his weapon. I caught it with my hand, and rammed the barrel up against his chin as I stood. The other guy made to help his pal, but he was blocked by my baby brother rising up like a wall, between him and me. Suddenly the bad guy looked kinda short. He took an involuntary step backward, and Sam hooked his foot behind his knees, making him fall back awkwardly onto the floor.
I took my guy's shotgun and cuffed him to the fixed seating. Sam handcuffed the guy on the floor's hands behind his back. Handcuffs are very handy things to carry around. Sam likes handcuffs.
I turned to see the two guys that were holding Jo, apparently not the brightest brains, hesitating whether to hang onto her or take us on. The ugliest guy decided to go for it. He aimed and fired one round straight at me, but I was ready for that and dived to my right, hitting the floor and sliding, pumping the piece and firing upwards, knocking him back and down with a hit to the chest. The last guy cursed and dropped Jo's arm, pumping his weapon, but before he could let go a round, Jo had grabbed back her knife from his belt, and unzipped the guy's throat from behind. He dropped at her feet, as she stood panting. I kinda expected the old goat would have evaporated sometime during the dustup but he was still there. Standing in the middle of the room, bent over his cane, chortling like he'd just seem the funniest stand-up show of his life.
"You really can't get good help anymore", he grinned, his teeth yellow and bad. "And there's still the little matter of a debt."
"You're not gonna hurt 'em", Jo snorted, backing up to stand defensively at the door to the chapel.
"Little girl", he chuckled. "I'll get to everyone by and by, but right now I'm only here for the one defaulter. Hand him over and I'll be on my way."
"Who'd you come for?", I asked. "And what's your beef with him?"
"His name is Gray", he said. Jo winced at the mention of that name.
"He welched on our deal", he explained. "When we met he was doing some research into the little problem of growing old. I offered him eternal youth in exchange for his results. But he gave up the quest and settled for helping people. I ask you."
The door of the chapel opened slowly and the mullet-head, that had been sitting with Jo, stepped out, followed by a youthful doctor.
The guy in the white coat smiled at Jo. "Hi Jo", he said sadly. Jo smiled back. Then to old Geras, and the room in general, he explained himself.
"Look, he told me 'You will never grow old'. I was newly qualified plastic surgeon on the way up. It was a promise too good to pass on. But that was 70 years ago, and after a while youth gets old, if you'll pardon the pun. And that's why I ended up in this backwater town, helping sick people.
But, yeah, I did renege on the deal I had with this old guy, because I didn't come up with the antidote. He wanted the antidote that would rid him of his own crumbling decrepitude. And it was out of my reach."
He looked kinda beat and I thought he was gonna give it up like a man. But then he grabbed a shotgun and made a run for it. Geras struck out wildly with icy blasts of wrinkly obsolescence, and one or two struck down random victims. Not a good thing.
So I did the obvious thing. I shot the doc dead in his tracks. Jo and Sam looked at me, mouths open.
"What?", I said and shrugged.
The old crock vanished right after that. Before we had a chance to make a move on him. Guess there was no reason for him to hang around. The doc wouldn't be getting any older.
PoV: Sam Winchester, lover of Dean, patricide, desperado
It was time to go. The cops would be there pretty soon. Too late but pretty soon. The local sheriff didn't have a hope in hell of understanding what had happened. But our faces would be on CCTV, and they'd need someone to blame, as always.
"Thanks", Jo said, like she wasn't too sure. She shook my hand.
"Me and Ash heard you were dark side", she went on, indicating the guy beside her.
"My mom told me about what happened down Albuquerque way. She said it was nasty. And she let you guys go. I told her she would regret it. You didn't deserve her sympathy. Your rep is brutal. Hell, you aced your daddy. I wasn't expecting 'Die Hard' today."
"The skinny is that you're demon bait and you get people killed", Ash explained.
"People get killed", I shrugged. "Humans are just prey to these guys. Evil has victims."
He nodded. "And you're gonna say you're not evil, right?", he asked, with an ironic grin.
"Evil?", I considered. "Maybe, maybe not. Depends on your point of view. We sin. We break commandments. We are what we are. Take us or leave us. That's up to you."
"Philosophy", he said, nodding. "I like that."
Big bro Dean was starting to get a little antsy, so I knew it was time to go.
"Sure, babe", I told him.
When I turned back to Jo, she was looking kinda smirky.
"There's other things they say about the two of you", she said.
I grinned. "I take care of my brother", I explained. "We take care of each other. That's all there is. As my Dean would say, it's a lurve thing."
I fussed with Dean's head. That bump was going down nicely. He flapped me away with a "Geddoff!"
And, as we turned to go, I remembered something, "Tell Ellen we're even", I told Jo.
As we left, the two guys chained in the entrance growled and pulled at their chains. I looked at Dean and he unloaded two rounds. Like we were gonna leave those badasses for the cops?
"I need my handcuffs back", I quipped. Dean likes handcuffs.
And then we were gone.
We walked out to the Impala, and Dean made to get in the driver's seat.
"Uh-uh", I nagged him. "There's no way you're gonna drive with that head."
He looked at me. "Really? You still think I'm concussed after all that?"
"Especially after all that", I replied, motioning him to the other side. "I want to keep you around a little longer, lover. Now shut up and get in."
"I've had enough shotgun for one night", he grinned, but got in anyway.
I started the engine. "You're asking to sleep on your own tonight", I threatened.
"Not with a concussion", he returned, with a snicker. "You gotta keep me up 24 hours, and I'm kinda looking forward to it."
I laughed and pulled out of the lot. Sounded good to me too.
The End