**** The Boys are driving towards Bobby's after they battled the Hell's Gate eruption. Both of them are exhausted, but an urgent call from Bobby has them rushing over to get rid of a nasty.
Dean hasn't spilled to Sam about his Demon Deal.
(Start of Season 3)
This is, for all intents and purposed, an alternate storyline, an alternate Universe, if you will *****
The impala came to a stop with a jerk and creak of suspension. The sudden silence after the chug of the engine only broken by the ticking sounds of cooling steel.
Dean leaned forward over the steering wheel and squinted through the windscreen at the abandoned mansion.
Sam looked up from his phone where he had been using the GPS system.
"why are we here again?" Dean asked.
Sam sighed, he told him twice already "6 kids have gone missing in the past month in this town. All in a 5 mile radius of this place"
"hmm" Dean grunted. He shoved the door open and got out.
Gathering up folders, Sam folded his tall frame out of the car, he continued "this house used to belong the Cunningham family, lived here till 1917. That is, until they all disappeared."
"Disappeared how?"
"well" Sam pulled some gear from the backseat "rumour has it, the family was heavy into witchcraft, so my bet is they pissed something off, and that something made a meal of 'em"
Dean nodded. Doesn't it always.
"the house has been haunted like hell ever since"
Dean opened the trunk, and started picking his poisons "haunted how?"
"nothing too intense. Doors slamming, voices, cold, you usual shtick. Keeps the kids out, ya know. But now ..." he took the shotgun Dean handed him "the ghosts seem to not be happy with Halloween tricks anymore."
The trunk was slammed shut, and Dean shouldered a bag of presents. "let's do this"
The house was overgrown with ivy. Two storeys. Most windows still seemed intact. The garden wall broken apart by tree roots and vandals.
The boys stood at the entrance.
Dean squinted again "huh"
Sam didn't look at him "what"
"I know this place" Dean declared.
Now Sam looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Dad brought me here once. When I was maybe... 7?" Dean re-adjusted the bag over his shoulder "yeah. I remember. " a brief smile played on his lips, a memory. "he brought me here because the ghosts weren't violent. To get me used to how they feel, how they act."
Sam was speechless. John Winchester never bothered easing him into the ghosts this easily.
Sam was still half staring at Dean "well, you know, ..." he cleared his throat and pushed between the broken down and rusted gates.
The property was wildly overgrown, with only a small part of the paving stones still visible. The garden was waist high with grass and shrubs.
The sound of Dean's boots was muffled by years of fallen leaves and dead grass. A huge tree had fallen across the once grand entrance way, crushing what seemed to be a fountain, to bits.
"they should fire their gardener" Dean quipped at Sam, glancing to see if his brother found his line funny. He was rewarded with an upturned mouth corner. That was enough for Dean.
Sam stopped a moment to take the scene in "I think we should get the machetes, aint no way I'm fighting my way through all those brambles" he said indicating the small jungle.
"no need little brother" Dean said "lookie." He pointed at a well worn trail branching off the cobbles into the brush.
"huh" Sam huffed "animal trail? "
Shrugging, Dean said "dunno. Animals aint overly keen on ghosts, but maybe some other animal, if you catch my drift" giving Sam a meaningful look.
Sam knew. The animal that don't die real easy, and needs all manner of special stuff to make, and keep, them dead.
Dean indicated with his head "come on, we are running out of light"
The path was indeed well used, with signs of more nasty weeds being pulled out and tossed aside. No animal does that. No monster neither.
Soon they realised that the path in the jungle was leading to an old oak.
Dean stopped
"whatcha think?" Sam asked softly, leaning towards Dean.
Dean answered by pulling his gun out of his belt. He shrugged. You never know.
The path rounded a corner, and revealed the biggest oak either Sam or Dean have ever seen. The canopy could have sheltered a small hippy convention with ease, and then some. The trunk was massive.
Dean had a momentary impulse to throw his arms around it, just to see how far he would reach around.
He indicated with his hand that Sam should go left. His spidey senses were tingling. Something was in the tree. As he looked up, Sam cottoned on, and looked up too. It was broad daylight, but this place was haunted after all.
They were scanning the branches, leaves, for anything that moved, or didn't. Sam's right hand unconsciously gripping the saw-off tighter and tighter. He was feeling the creep-factor too.
"Excuse me"
Sam whirled around shotgun raised; Dean had his pistol at eye-level, heartbeat so loud his ears rang.
A young woman sat at the base of the tree.
"I said, excuse me"
Dean was gaping like a fish, his mouth working but no sounds came out.
Sam only managed "uhhhh"
The young woman gave them each a dirty look in turn "you deaf? What are you doing here?"
Sam lowered his gun first "uhhh. Pest control" only thing he could think of that would justify the small armoury. What the hell was SHE doing here?
Dean was still pointing his weapon.
"Dean!" Sam whispered at him. Dean glanced.
The gun you moron. Sam's eyes said.
Dean lowered his gun. 'Yeah." He coughed. "Possums. Nasty stuff"
The woman snapped closed the book she held in her lap. "uh-huh. And I'm Santa"
Dean blinked.
She got up, and brushed leaves off her legs. She gave them another once-over. "that's some heavy artillery for possums, dontcha think?"
Dean got his mojo back faster than Sam "Miss, this is private property." He started "we have been commissioned by the authorities to clear this area of pests, uhm.. they wanna restore this place." He faltered, looked at Sam for backup.
"heritage site" Sam latched on. Dean nodded.
The woman gathered her long black hair together over one shoulder, then crossed her arms over her chest. "bullshit" she declared. "you smell of Hunter"
Now Sam gaped.
"we hunt possum" Dean answered weakly. Unconvinced at his own acting.
Sam knew the gig was up "what do you know of Hunters?"
Dean shot him a what the hell look.
Sam ignored him.
"enough" she answered. "you jackasses come here every so often. With a bevy of things that make noise. Or stink. And hope to bag a ghost. But you never do. And you just leave a mess. And you upset the Family. So..."
"Family?" Dean said, sneering "what goddamn family? Lady..."
Sam's hand on arm stopped him "Look, Miss... uhhh. We are here to help. Really. there is something going on around here. People are dying..."
"I know" she said, dropping her eyes.
"you know" Dean stated, annoyed.
"we don't know what it is though." She looked back at Sam " who are you guys anyways?"
Sam and Dean gave each other a look. A silent conversation happening. Should we?
Sam answered "Sam and Dean Winchester. Our job is to... deal... with stuff like this..."
"Ah! The hell-gate twins!" she pronounced.
"what?!" Dean blurted.
"you two. The hell's gate. Letting a smorgasbord of nasties into the world... ring a bell?"
Dean brought up his gun again "demon, Sam"
The reaction in Sam was similar, his mouth set, he brought the shotgun up.
The woman brought up her hands as well "Jesus! You guys need to lighten the fuck up!" she dropped her book "I'm not a demon you asshats. "
A silent standoff ensued.
Dean stepped closer "how do you know of us, the hellsgate? And why are so damn calm while people are pointing guns at you anyways?" he was ready to empty a clip in her.
"the Family told me" she answered simply.
Dean fumed "again with the goddamn Family. Is that some kind of nest? You demons now playing house? Is this what the deal is here?"
Dean glared, Sam's jaw was clenched to breaking. Both of their fingers putting increasing pressure on their triggers.
The woman looked at them each in turn, seeming to be thinking hard on her answer. Then said "the Cunninghams. They told me. About you. The demon Ozfest." She trailed off.
"what?!" Sam this time.
She sighed exasperated. "the Family. They used to live here, the Cunninghams. Well, they still live here... They told me the news from the far side. Shit that's going down.."
Dean looked at Sam. He mouthed what the hell?
Sam asked her "They live here, still?. The Cunninghams?"
She nodded. "Their spirits. Yep"
"they talk to you"
Agreement.
"they talk you often?" he shrugged at Dean.
"why do you think I sit here? It's not for the entertainment value"
Dean had enough "Look here sister, you have about ten seconds to spill your beans before I start donating you lead" he readjusted the grip on the pistol to reiterate his point.
She pursed her lips "I can see ghosts, ok. Always could. I came here when I was a kid, the Family didn't kill me, so I hung around some. Now... you know. I hang around a lot. We talk. They tell me stuff. I tell them stuff. And, if you really have to know, I'm helping them get out. Of the house. Be at peace. You know. They have limited resources. They are bound here. But that you know." She crossed her arms again "so that's the beans spilled Marine."
Dean drew a breath to speak. Came up with nothing. Looked at Sam for backup.
Sam shifted uncomfortably "so you are helping them to move on? That right?"
"yeah" she seemed to settle into their acceptance "that's the gist of it"
"How?" Sam asked "hunters have coming for years, there are no bones, the spirits don't budge with no spell or incantation... what are you planning to do?"
She grinned "witchcraft my tall friend."
Dean was quick to answer "witches don't fly with us Sabrina" his expression told it all. We kill 'em.
Sam saw this conversation was going nowhere "look" he started "we are here to kill whoever, or whatever, is killing people in this town. Can you help us?"
Dean drew a breath to add something, but Sam's warning look abashed him sufficiently.
"it's not the Family" she assured them "they are really quite harmless. But there has been something... it started about three months ago. First it was lurking around in the garden, then it started to take over the house " she started to fidget "room by room. Started with the cellar. Now almost the entire ground floor is his.."
"his?" Dean asked flatly.
She gave him a dirty look "yeah. It's a him. Mrs Cunningham said so. I can't tell. I just know it makes my skin crawl"
"you seen it?" Sam asked.
She looked at the house, then at the lengthening shadows "listen, I can't help you guys much. I think you guys need to speak to the Family" she swallowed "but not now. Tomorrow. I need to go."
She was afraid now, Sam could tell. The sun had sunk faster than anybody had noticed, and the jungle of a garden had grown significantly darker. Her attitude of defiance has now become a mask. But they needed to get this done. There was a pattern in the killings. Every Thursday night, that's why they are here now. To catch the monster in the act. Kids disappear, end up a pile of gore somewhere. The only connection, they live close to the house.
We should have done more research Sam thought this is stupid. We came in here with no game plan. We didn't have time to speak to anyone.
"Ok. Ok" He said "you go, we will speak to the Family"
Dean turned on him "really now"
Sam shot him a look trust me.
Sam turned to her "what's your name?"
She seemed a bit stunned by the question "err. Alix. Fletcher."
"ok Alix, we will talk to the family. You go home. Ok?" he nodded to Dean. And they started away from her.
"uhm, guys!" she called after them.
Sam turned, but Dean kept on going "yeah"
She seemed embarrassed almost "they won't talk to you."
Now even Dean stopped "and why the hell not"
The house inside was musty, and smelled of mould. But that was to be expected. The house has been abandoned for almost a hundred years. There was very little graffiti or vandalism inside. Kids most like got chased out before they could get much done.
Every step had the floorboards creaking. Dean took in the place. The chandelier covered in ages of cobwebs. The glass panes so dusty they are opaque. The corpse of a bat that somehow got in, and never got out. Pieces of furniture dotted the room.
Sam had plonked down the backpack on the closest table, and was ruffling in it. No doubt to find the flashlights. It was getting very dark, very quick.
"so" Dean said, looking at Alix "you gonna call Casper or what?"
She was still standing with her hand on the doorknob as she had closed the door behind them. This house was as familiar to her as her own home. And yet, lately, it felt alien. Dangerous. Cold. Even the footprints she had left in the dust seemed ominous to her. Why the hell she volunteered to help these morons...
"upstairs' she said, pointing at the marble staircase.
"why don't they come down here" he bitched.
She didn't answer, but started towards the stairs, and continued up them until she reached the second floor landing. She shivered.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a head peek around a door. Joshua. The youngest. He liked playing hide and seek with her. But he always won. Being able to disappear at will, and walk through walls, it made him unbeatable.
Clara, the eldest, rarely spoke to her. Whether it was a ghost thing, or whether she was just snooty, she didn't know. But she suspected the latter.
Mrs Cunningham, she was a witch, as was,...is, Mr Cunningham, but she was way more talented. She had kept her family safe through many troubles. While the economy was ravaged, they thrived. She had come from a family of witches. Gypsies in fact. Driven from Europe by Christian persecution through the ages. Her family had taken one of the first boats out to colonise the New World. And had prospered here. They had grown wealthy and respectable. Her own father had arranged her marriage to Mr Cunningham, the son of a wealthy Merchant. And to her delight, she had found her new husband not only an eager student to the occult arts, but moderately achieved in his own right.
Alix winked at Joshua, and he giggled and sped off down the corridor.
When she first found this house, she had been running away from a gang of boys at school, who had been promising to cut her hair off when next they found her alone.
She had always been odd. And the naive confession to a classmate about her abilities to see the dead... well... it left her an outcast.
They had followed her into the house, and it had been Joshua, who had rattled the chandelier, and made the chairs move, that sent the bullies off crying. It didn't take long for the rest of the family to see that they had an ally in her. And she had been taking refuge in the garden and house ever since. Reading under the tree with Joshua. Or sitting in the parlour with Mrs Cunningham, listening to her stories, or receiving instruction in the occult. She had not tried any of the spells or potions. But her divination skills were of some good. And she had been able to make a fair living out of reading palms and tarot. But mostly, the futures she saw, was not what people wanted to see. So she told them what they wanted to hear, and ended up having them come back again, to hear more good news. Nobody ever wanted the truth.
She was about to throw an irritated curse down the railing, when Sam came up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
He was an immensely tall man. Yet carried it with ease. His eyes was gentle. If his hair wasn't falling in them. But there was something hard about him. Brooding. Something under the surface that was tugging at him. She could see it. Like a huge weight on his shoulders. She would love to read his palm.
The bow-legged one came up afterwards, still scanning the place. Jaw set. Eyes cold. A true Hunter that one. She's seen enough of them to know. She generally keeps clear of the Hunters when they come along.
But they had caught her unawares today, her mind had been elsewhere. She didn't hear them coming. Though, in retrospect, they were loud like a herd of buffalo on the stampede. That was stupid of her. They could have killed her, or worse...
Sam raised an eyebrow at her.
"in the parlour" she said, pointing.
She marched them in. She kept the place relatively dust free, for her own sake at least. Ghosts didn't care about blocked sinuses. But the upholstery was threadbare and brittle, and the wood in desperate need of oil.
The boys walked in, gave the room a once-over, and looked at her.
She cleared her throat "they are here" she said "ask what you want to ask"
Dean looked around uncertainly. "how do we know you aint yanking our chain"
Sam seemed to share the sentiment.
Mrs Cunningham was sitting primly in her chair, embroidering. Mr Cunningham at the window, staring out over the darkening garden.
Joshua was sitting on the floor, staring up at her. Clara, of course, was not around.
Alix felt a soft brush on her leg, and saw Joshua winking at her. She knew he was going to do something naughty. She just smiled to herself.
Dean was giving her a ok so? look.
Her eye caught movement at his feet, and saw Joshua kneeling down and tying his shoelaces together. She suppressed a smirk.
Next the boy picked up a piece of fallen plaster, and aimed it straight between Dean's eyes.
"hey!" he yelped, stepped back, and landed on his ass.
Alix snorted, and Joshua collapsed on the floor in peals in giggles. She saw Dean sit up confused and red-faced, and covered her mouth to stifle another burst of laughter.
"sonofa..." he muttered, and undid his tangled up shoelaces.
Sam was smirking himself, and reached down to Dean after he got laced up again.
"ok. Ok" Sam smiled. "look, ok. You win" he seemed to sober up some "we don't have much time. Tonight, there will be another murder" he looked at Alex, and swept the room vaguely. "we had assumed that the source of the, eh... problem, was here..."
Mrs Cunningham commented "of course"
"and we were right. We need the help of... the uhm, Family, to find out what's going on here" he looked meaningfully at Alix.
She turned to the Mr Cunningham, then Mrs Cunningham.
The lady of the house started "it is not a demon"
Alix relayed.
"nor any hell spawn I have yet encountered. It has no soul. But it has purpose. It calls itself Baled. It is here to prepare for his master. The killing of the children is blood sacrifice. He will kill four more. Then the ritual is complete."
Alix waited for more, then when none came, relayed what she said.
Sam started to speak, but Dean interrupted "How do we kill it"
The parents looked at each other, and Mrs Cunningham continued "we need to draw him into a trap. Then we can bind his essence to a vessel, and cast him down" she paused "he will need to be lured. He will not come willingly" she looked at Alix meaningfully.
Alix had an understanding with the family. To help them get out, move on, be at peace... but this. She said to her " why me? "
Mrs Cunningham replied "he wants...pure... children..."
Alix coughed a laugh "I'm hardly a child. I'm 24." She would have continued about her purity, but not in front of these strangers.
Sam and Dean looked at each other.
Dean quipped "Haley Joel" he lifted his eyebrows "lost in translation much?"
Alix flustered "he can be trapped, and killed, we need bait, though." She cleared her throat. She nervously looked at the wife to make sure she hadn't misunderstood.
The woman continued "we have the ingredients we need. Will you do it?" for the first time she looked up from her embroidery "you know you are strong enough. You need the experience". The words were loaded.
Yeah she thought so that I can jailbreak you lot out of here.
Mr Cunningham spoke up "we had an agreement." He reminded her "we teach you. You help us. We have been teaching you for a good while now. If this creature is allowed to remain, he will, in time, devour our essence. Then seek you, and devour yours."
She shook her head "what?" they knew this?
"what what?" Sam said. "what's going on?"
Alix brought her hand to her mouth, looked at Sam wide-eyed. "seemingly, your monster, eats souls. And he is yearning for theirs, and mine..." she swallowed.
"ah" Dean said. "like I didn't see that comin'..."
"so, what's the plan" Sam stepped forward, as if wanting to make her focus.
She drew her hand through her hair "they can do magic, I..." she trailed off.
"you?" Sam urged.
"I will do the legwork"
Dean leaned forward and rested his hands on the back of a chair "and what do we do, stand around and whistle Dixie?"
Good point she thought
"He needs to be herded" Mrs Cunningham replied "like a beast. We will give them talismans that will burn him. They need to bring it the library. Where we will be waiting. Where you will be waiting. The talismans would have drained him, and he will need to feed to escape us. And you will be the only one he can feed on" she smiled.
"fucking hell" Alix murmured.
"who of what" Dean asked.
She related the highlights of the plan, leaving out her part in it. She watched them take it in. The nodded.
"easy enough" Sam replied.
"Yeah" Dean agreed "what's next?"
"I don't like this" Dean said for the 20th time. Maybe if he said it enough, it would make this plan less insane.
Sam ignored him. He had spent all his responses already.
Dean flung a spent can of red spray-paint in a corner.
Alix had given them detailed instruction on how to herd the monster through the house and up the stairs into the library, where the ghosts of Christmas past would be waiting to gank the mother.
Only... he had this nagging feeling that not even they knew what the hell they were dealing with. If it's a monster, it bleeds. Then some kind of sharp thing will do it in. If it's some ethereal git, then salt, steel... but now, they are painting the walls with sigils he had never seen. Making sure the Nasty goes where they want.
They were given little talismans Alix made out of who knows what. That, in theory, should ward this thing off them.
I don't like this.
Sam had taken on the sigils on the ceiling. Of course he did. Tall-ass bastard. He just stood on tiptoes to get it done. The red paint had dripped in his hair and on his face. Dean felt the urge to lick his thump and wipe it off.
He half-laughed at himself.
This freak is a head taller than him, but 'supposed to be his 'little' brother. Goddamn. When did this happen.
Before he left for college, yeah, he was tall, but skinny. All gangly legs and knobbly elbows. And then, poof!, he turned into this broad shouldered mammoth. All muscle and long, sure strides.
Dean shook his head, remember the times he could out-wrestle Sam and pin him down with ease. Now? Now Sam would make a pretzel out of him.
Sometimes Dean missed having Sam be the little brother, in the literal sense. So he could just grab him. Muss his hair. Sit on the couch with him, watching Westerns till they both fell asleep. Sam snuggled into his armpit, or his head on his thigh.
Just... being.
No crap. No demons. No Big Plan.
Knowing that Dad will eventually come back with some story of his hunt.
He was made for protecting. It's all he knows.
Sometimes, Dean thinks about when Sam got stabbed. That incredible hollow in his gut when he saw Sam's face twist in pain as the knife plunged in. Literally seeing the life fade from his eyes.
Dean had to swallow at the thought. He looked up to make sure Sam wasn't looking. The burning in the back of his nose heralded the coming of tears.
He cleared his throat.
But Sam had to die some day. He too. At some point, one of them had to go. It's part of the life. Part of their sacrifice.
But not yet. He had a year. He will make it a good year. He will make sure Sam has good memories.
Goddamn demons. He clenched his fist till his knuckles were white.
"Dean? You okay" Sam frowned at him. Kid always knew when something was eating him.
"yeah. I'm good. You done?"
Sam put his hands on his hips and looked "I guess. The best I can do in torchlight, ya know."
Dean grunted in agreement.
This was suicide. Wait for this thing to come, herd him along. Poke at him. Provoke him. Force him to give chase. Madness. "Why the hell do these things always do their nasty shit at midnight anyways?"
Sam shrugged "dunno. We got time still." He ran his hand through his unruly mop of hair, grimaced as his fingers met sticky blobs of half dried paint "goddamit" he muttered.
"Just cut it off" Dean smirked.
"Shut up"
Dean grinned. A sore point, that hair. He had threatened a million times. He would cut it off in his sleep. Get him drunk and shear his head clean. He would never though. It would just not be Sam without Cousin It living on his head. And who knows what his melon looks like under all that. If his huge forehead was anything to go by...
"Come, 'ere" he said, waving Sam closer.
Sam raised you finger, don't you dare it said.
He laughed softly, he waved at him again. Just come you big girl.
Sam came closer. Dean shone a light into his hair. "sorry bro. It's in there proper. Acrylic though. It will wash out."
"Yeah. Just feels weird."
"No" Dean retorted "this" he indicated the surrounds "this, feels weird. All of this. Sam.."
"I know I know. It's not right" he shrugged "whatcha want me to say Dean? Abort this hunt? What if someone dies and we could have stopped this, right here, right now... We have to give this a go"
He was right, of course. Kids was always right. "Sam..." he started.
Sam looked at him "yeah?"
Please don't do anything stupid. "nuthin"
Sam frowned at him again.
Just leave it Sammy.
They heard a plank creak behind them and both looked.
Alix was standing in the doorway. "Almost time guys"
She didn't have a torch, but navigated the dark house like a cat. The camping light on the table made her eyes look huge. Or maybe she was just scared.
"Good times" Dean muttered to himself.
Sam was hunched in the shadows opposite the cellar door. Alix said it came though there. He was first checkpoint for the... what-the-hell-ever it was.
He breathed out through pursed lips. Dean was right, this is nuts.
He held the talisman gripped in his left hand, and silver knife in the right. Silver does most critters some degree of sore. Maybe this one too, if he was lucky.
And when have I ever been lucky?
His legs was cramping from sitting on his haunches. He shifted a bit to get the blood flowing again. He dares a glance at his watch. It was 17 minutes past midnight. Not very punctual this thing.
Dean must be grinding his teeth to stumps in frustration by now. He will come striding down here any minute, swearing.
He stared sightlessly into the dark. Dean was hiding something. He could see it. The way he caught Dean looking at him sometimes. He couldn't explain it, like a big sadness somehow.
He could poke and prod till the cows came home, but Dean would only make a joke, change the subject.
Dean had allowed him to be able to be express his emotions. But Jess had created a safe place for his heart. Where talking freely was encouraged. Rewarded even. He missed being able to simply say what he felt. Without an awkward silence as response. Or a cough. Or rubbing of a stubbled chin in embarrassment.
He felt it before he saw it. Actually, he smelled it.
Dirt. Fresh dirt. Fresh wet dirt.
He was immediately alert. Adrenaline making every fibre of his body tense.
His eyes strained against the dark. The moon was casting eerie shadows, playing tricks on your eyes.
There was no mistaking the creaking open of the cellar door.
Sam's heart beat so hard, he thought the entire house could hear. No matter how many monsters you fight, they still remain scary as fuck.
The door had swung open completely now.
Sam waited.
Slowly, like thick boiling ooze, a black substance came flowing through the doorway.
Sam squinted. What the hell... is that ecto?
The black goo kept on coming, till it occupied a puddle about a metre across. Then it started peaking and the middle, and rose until it had assumed the rough shape of a man. It seemed to just stand there for what seemed an eternity.
Then moved straight for Sam. His heart climbed into his throat.
Don't move, only act when it sees you. The instructions from Alix were clear and precise. Only act when needed, with luck, tar boy over there will go by his lonesome.
It kept on coming.
It wants to go through this door he realized. This door leads outside. They didn't think of painting anything on this door. Fuck.
He has to keep it inside.
He stood up slowly, gripping the objects in his hands like they were his very life.
The thing saw him, stopped, hissed.
Jesus Sam thought.
The blob still hadn't assumed any shape worth mentioning.
What the hell IS that?
It made some noise, half hiss, half gurgle. It repeated the noise, more threatening. It was talking to him.
Sam extended his hand with the talisman, letting it drop from his palm so that it dangled where the monster could see it.
It simply stood there, an immensely black pillar of tarry snot.
"you cannot pass" he said, and had the insanely ridiculous vision of himself standing on bridge facing a Balrog, staff in one hand, sword in the other.
The created swayed slightly, and gibbered at him again.
Sam took a step towards him, talisman extended.
It backed off slightly.
The first patch of still drying paint was on the door to the kitchen. Sam's eyes flicked towards it involuntarily.
She blob saw it. Hissed dramatically, and lurched at Sam.
Sam jumped back. "back!" he shouted.
The blob swayed, then backed up some more.
Sam inched forward, hand still extended. "git" he ordered, shoving his hand towards the thing.
It backed up some more.
This works well enough
Just two more turns, then the stairs. That's the tricky part. The passage ends into the foyer. Open space, there Dean is waiting. With a whole cathedral of sigils painted on the floor and ceiling, marking the road this monster must take.
Alix done good by letting him paint the ceiling of the passage too. By the look of this thing, he could just slither in any crack he chose.
The hissing and gibbering increased as ground was made away from the cellar door.
Here we go.
The passage ended into the double volume foyer.
The critter stopped, swayed, gibbered, then screeched something fierce.
It lunged at Sam, he stepped back, desperately holding the talisman in front of him.
"Hey!" Dean came from behind the stairs "hey! Ugly! This way!"
The blob turned, the black goo of its body seeming to be pulled in every direction at once. It let out another wail. It shuddered and pulsed.
"c'mon you shithead!" Dean goaded. Its attention on Dean, Sam moved closer again.
Sam's shoe knocked against a nail sticking out of the floorboards, and he half tripped, his foot landing loudly as he caught his balance.
The next instant he was airborne, and he was smashed into the huge old table in the middle of the room. The edge connecting with his back, sending an electric shock of pain down his legs. He cried out as his body dropped to the floor.
"Sam!" Dean called, frantic.
The blob was freaking out. The tar-like goo spiking and bubbling. It was hissing and gibbering, the pitch of its nonsense growing higher and more fevered.
Sam was gasping for breath. His legs were numb. Oh god no. His immediate panicked thought was of paralysis.
Dean was at the foot of the stairs, machete in hand. The monster was between him and Sam.
Dean grimaced. "Sam! You okay? Sammy?!" He was barely concealing the panic in his voice. This entire hunt was breaking every comfort zone he had.
Sam tried to pull a breath to reply to his brother, but the very act shot pain through his back. All he could do was moan. He tried to push himself up, cried out in pain again. Breathe though it Sam, breathe through it.
He raised his eyes to meet Dean's. I'm okay, do the job.
Dean didn't need words, he focused on the boiling and spasming pillar of filth in front of him.
He carefully started edging around the thing, making sure to keep the open area of the foyer behind him, the obvious escape route. The critter either had to go back, or up the stairs.
Come on Sam, I need you.
Sam had managed to drag himself up on all fours. He was gasping. Just got the breath knocked out of him, thank god.
He had lost his talisman "shit" he muttered. A quick survey yielded nothing. Maybe the monster won't notice.
He drew a deep breath, and pushed himself upright, putting a hand on the table for a momentary support.
Dean caught his eye, nodded. The relief obvious.
Sam moved to cover the way they came.
The blob was slow on the uptake, if anything else. It weaved and tittered. It's glutinous body bubbling and spiking.
But after much goading, it started up the stairs. Not climbing as much as flowing.
The brothers had both taken position behind it, completely blocking its way now.
"Dumb as a bag of hammers" Dean muttered. He dared a glance at Sam "you okay?"
Sam nodded "yeah, I'm good." How the hell did that thing do that? That's demon tricks. Evil spirit tricks. This things aint nothing he's ever heard of.
After what seemed a lifetime, it had reached the landing.
Now the tricky part started.
Alix was already waiting in the doorway of the library. She was shivering. "Hey" she croaked. Cleared her throat "hey" she said, louder.
The critter turned, and its surface turned smooth as glass. It became silent. And just stood there. After a moment, it started changing shape. It curved and moulded until a resembled a man. A man with a smooth shaven face, close cropped black hair.
"Alix?" it said in a smooth, rich voice.
Her jaw dropped. She raised her hand to her mouth. "What..."
"Alix, it's me. What are you doing here?"
She blinked "the hell..."
"Shouldn't you be at home this time of night? Your mother must be worried sick"
She frowned "Dad? How..."
The thing started towards her.
"Alix" Dean warned "it's not real" he and Sam were following behind it.
"Alix. Come girl, let's go home" it extended its hand toward her.
She backed up until the wall prevented her from going any further. "Dad you... you are dead. So... this isn't real" he swallowed. It looked JUST like him.
She drew a breath. "Screw you." She said suddenly "you have no right..." she straightened up. Hands in fists at her side. "I've had enough of your crap around here"
"But Alix" it said "you prayed so many times to have me back. I'm here now"
Her jaw trembled despite herself. "fuck you douchebag. You know nothing!" She inched towards the library door.
Dean was tensing for the blob to sense the trap, to send them all flying. Keep your cool girl, that's it.
The critter kept on cooing and placating, selling all the sweet stories there is to sell.
Alix had it into the library now.
The boys had not seen what the inside looks like, where the trap is. Just incase the monster overwhelmed them, and squeezed the gig out of them.
Dean and Sam exchanged a glance. NOW.
They rushed the door, and closed it, the inside of it painted with a huge sigil.
The monster gave it one look, and the form it had exploded into thousands of needlepoints, its wail deafening.
Dean grabbed Sam by the jacket and hauled him sideways way from the door.
A second later the blob slammed into the door with a shuddering thud.
The goo flowed over the door, and recoiled when it touched the sigil. It hissed and boiled and keened.
Over the noise, Alix could hear the Cunningham's chanting. The entire family was there. The were drawing sigils in the air with their fingers, leaving smoke trails where their finger points went.
Their eyes were closed. Even Clara's. This was serious business. If her and Josh were being pulled into this... This was big business.
The trap she remembered.
"Hey asshole! " she shouted over its keening and wailing. She picked up a book and flung it at him "you!"
It whirled in a tangle of what seemed to be tentacles. And flew at her with surprising speed.
She yelped in surprise and backed up, half stumbling.
It reached for her, but stopped a few inches from here. It reached again. It writhed, reached again.
Sam and Dean both looked at the trap painted on the ceiling. Works for all kinds of uglies it seems. Their old trusted trap on the ceiling. Bless it.
The blob wailed and trashed. It was truly trapped.
The wailing was immense. Almost painful to hear.
Dean stepped forward "now what?" he shouted to be heard over the ruckus.
Alix glanced at the Family. Their chanting was frantic now, their sigil drawing so fast it was a blur.
"The family is on it. It think it may be wise to stand back or something" she said.
Dean nodded and backed away to where Sam was leaning against the wall, frowning in pain.
Sam cocked his head. He could swear he was hearing voices. Chanting voices. He looked around, and spotted the faint images of what seemed to be four people standing beside the window.
"Dean" he said, pointing.
Dean squinted "I'll be damned..."
It was nearing the final apex. The creature was wild. A flurry of spikes and tentacles. Random faces appearing and disappearing in the mass of black goo.
Alix was standing glued into place, gobsmacked and scared shitless.
She heard Dean calling to her. It was damn loud in here. She wanted to pay attention, but the sight of this... Thing.
She blinked. She could see Dean's mouth moving, he was showing her something.
"What?" she shouted.
A sudden gust of wind pushed her back a few steps, making her cry out in fright. A low rumble came from somewhere. The floorboards were shuddering.
Oh crap she thought. Not good.
Suddenly there was in immense silence. She didn't breathe; time seemed to stop for an instant.
Then a force pushed her hard. Pushed the air from her. Blinded her. Her ears popped and her cry was torn from her throat.
Dean's breath was loud in his ears. He had his back to the room. His arm around Sam's chest. When the monster exploded, Dean had grabbed Sam and shielded him between himself and the wall. Now he his breath was blowing Sam's hair up in puffs as he panted.
"Sam" he croaked "you ok?"
Sam reached up and squeezed Dean's arm around his chest. He had no breath to talk, but that gesture was enough.
Dean nodded. He sat back, pulling Sam with him, it didn't occur to him to let go.
He looked around the room. Old broken books were everywhere. Dust was thick in the air. Shelves had turned over or collapsed.
The blob was gone.
"Holy shit" he muttered.
"Alix" Sam said.
Dean got up, and hauled Sam up by the arm.
The wan light of the moon barely lit anything sufficiently.
"Alix" he said louder than he intended to "you ok?"
Only a falling book answered him.
"Alix?" Sam called too.
"Here" a child's voice called "she's here. Help her"
Dean was startled "what?"
"Help her" another voice said, a woman's voice.
The Cunninghams Dean realised.
"I can't see" he said "where..." He suddenly found a torch in his hand.
He flicked it on.
Dust motes danced in the light beam. It took him a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness.
He swept the light around, and let out a gasp as he saw a young boy standing in the ruin that was a shelf.
"Help her" he said.
A man appeared next to him "our powers are drained." He said.
Right Dean thought fresh out of mojo.
He cast a quick look over his shoulder where Sam was still leaning against the wall, working his way up to being mobile.
Dean stepped over broken shelving and torn books. If she is under all that... he thought.
"Help her" the boy implored again.
"Hang on buddy" he huffed "two hands"
He scanned the wreckage. "Alix? You there? You alive?"
No response. Shit.
He rested the torch in the crook of his neck, and started pulling at broken shelving, tossing the rotten pieces aside as the came loose.
He heaved at a piece that came away in a big section.
He stopped.
Oh no.
The girl was buried under a pile of mangled books. Face up, eyes unseeing. He could see a dark pool of wetness seeping under her head.
He made quick work clearing away the mouldy tomes, and when he hunched next to her, he knew his fear were realised: the heavy shelf had crushed her.
He let out a disappointed breath.
"Help her" the boy implored again.
"She's gone son" he replied, but as he looked up, he saw that a woman and a girl had joined the gathering, and the boy was looking at his mother "help her" he said again.
The parents looked at each other. A meaningful exchange in their eyes.
Sam came shuffling along. "Is she..."
"yeah" Dean almost whispered.
Sam cursed. Kicked at a book. "No!"
It was her choice Dean wanted to tell him, but he knew his little brother would carry this weight for a long time to come. He would feel it was his fault. That he could have done something.
A new child's voice now pleaded "help her" a girl begged.
The man, Mr Cunningham, looked right at Dean "Hunter" he said. "We are putting her in your charge"
Dean frowned at him "what?"
"She is yours, as she was ours. Protect her. We will hold her agreement fulfilled" the man continued.
"I don't..." Dean started, but was interrupted by the man kneeling down next to Alix's prone body.
He looked up, and reached for his wife. She took his hand, as the girl took hers, and the boy his sister's.
Cunningham gave Dean another meaningful look "Protect her." He said again, and touched her shoulder.
They all seemed to shimmer for a second, and then disappeared.
Dean stared at the empty space the ghost family occupied a second later 'what the..."
He looked at Sam.
Sam's eyes were big. I have nothing, they said.
Dean looked around the room "Hallo?"
He was met only by the sound of Sam breathing.
"I have no idea what just happened"
Sam shrugged in response. He was trying his best not to collapse. His back was aflame in pain. He suspected a broken rib or two. Cracked if he was really lucky.
Dean ran his hand over his face. "So" he let his hands fall to his side "I guess we have to make up a story for the cops" he indicated the prone and bloodied body of the woman. He would normally just have torched the place, but this girl died doing the right thing. She deserves better. "We should find her folks... Sam. Sam? You listening?"
Sam was staring at Alix where she lay. She tilted his head "she moved" he said.
Dean turned, shone the torch.
They both looked.
A twitch.
"Jesus!" Dean jumped.
He stepped forward again. "She moved!"
Sam just looked at him That's what I said?
Dean knelt down, to shine the light at her face.
She blinked.
Dean leapt up with shout, tripping over books as he backpedalled. Sam grabbed for him as he fell, and got pulled down along with him. They both ended up ass first in a pile of crumbling books and rotten wood. The impact driving an agonized grunt from Sam.
Dean scrambled after the dropped torch and dropped it twice before he could focus the beam.
And found Alix sitting upright, staring at them.
Sam and Dean were both collapsed on one bed.
Sam laying on his stomach, feet dangling off the end of the end, face buried in a pillow. One hand tucked under him, the other hanging off the side, his knuckle brushing the floor. A Glock resting loosely in his palm.
Dean was in his back. One hand on his chest, snoring softly. The other palm-up on his forehead, elbow resting on the back of Sam's head.
The curtains were drawn, but the sound of daytime was still filtering through.
Bags and jackets were dumped on tables and chairs.
On the other bed, a blanket covered her up to her chin, her face caked with dried blood, her hair stiff and filthy.
She breathed in deeply, and opened her eyes.
She blinked. Let her eyes wander over the ceiling.
She sat up suddenly, and immediately regretted it. She grabbed at her head "oh my gawd" she moaned. What the hell did I do last night? Is this what hung-over feels like?
She breathed out in a shuddering breath. Her mouth was dry, and tasted of dust. She ran her hand over her forehead. Pieces of something was coming off. Mud?
"How you feeling?"
She sucked in a breath in fright at the sudden voice. And twisted her head around way too quickly, and instantly wanted to puke. "oh jesus..."
Where the hell? Who?
Sam, right? The hunter and his brother. Right, the house. This isn't the house. Where is this? "Where am I?"
"Motel room. You're safe" is all he said.
The blood in her veins were having a moshpit against her skull. "What in fuck's name happened?" She croaked.
"How bout I tell you later" Sam said. He was sitting up now, leaning forward on his knees, gun in his hand. She hasn't looked at him yet.
Dean was stirring. Maybe it was best she not be around when he woke up. "Why don't you go grab a shower?"
She didn't reply for a good ten seconds. Then "yeah. Good plan Batman"
She gingerly slid off the bed, nearly tripped over the blanket tangled around her legs, and stood unsteadily, squinting in the murky room. She peered at Sam. He pointed towards the bathroom. She simply gave him the thumbs up and waddled through the door and pushed it shut. Soon the sound of water came from behind it.
As if on cue, Dean said "Sam, we got a big problem" he was still lying exactly as he had, now only his eyes were fixed on his little brother.
"I know" Sam said.
"What we gonna do here? She's, you know..."
"I know"
"You thinkin what I'm thinkin here?"
Sam nodded.
Dean swung his legs off the bed, and made his way to the kitchenette for some coffee.
Standing with his hands resting the counter while the pot slowly filled, he said without turning around "we could exorcise them. You know. Get them outta her..."
"She will die, Dean" Sam looked down at his hands resting on this knees. This wasn't supposed to have happened like this.
Dean turned "you don't know that"
Sam looked up at him. We both know that.
They glared at each other for a moment, then Dean broke stare-off by grabbing two cups and filling them.
"So" Dean said. "What do?"
"We could take her to Bobby's. He could find something..."
"Or we could, you know... kill her. And before you bitch at me, she aint human no more. So..."
Sam just lifted his hands at Dean in exasperation "we owe her more than that" he said irritably.
Dean stared over the rim of his cup into space. "how you feelin, by the way?"
Nice change of subject there Dean. "Ok, considering. Bruised more than anything. Should be fine in a day or two"
Dean pursed his lips "you sure? Don't bullshit a bullshitter little brother"
Sam smirked "yeah yeah"
The sound of the running water stopped, and they both looked at each other.
Sam went to go stand next to Dean, unconsciously assuming a fighting stance, ready for anything to come through the door.
Dean felt the tension coming off his brother, and put the cup down to free his hands.
But nothing more than a wet girl in a faded towel emerged from the bathroom in a halo of steam.
Their faces must have been something, because it stopped her dead in her tracks. She opened her mouth to say something, then looked behind her to see if she was missing something.
The silence was deafening, so she decided to break it. "I know." She swallowed. "What happened? The thing. I ah..." she found herself struggling to say it "I died. Right? That bookshelf, when the blob-thing..."
"Yeah" Sam affirmed. He had relaxed some, but had inched behind Dean a bit.
A wet rope of hair fell over her forehead "they told me. They ahh... "She pointed a finger at her head "they are in here" she barked a bitter laugh. She looked at Sam. "Right?"
"We think so, yes"
She nodded.
Dean spoke up "so, you know this is not something we can let slide"
Sam gave him a death stare, but Dean wasn't looking.
Alix tilted her head at him "you gonna kill me." She stated.
"No" Sam declared "we are not" he said at Dean.
Dean started to say something, but Sam cut him off "we can't get them out. They are keeping you alive" a statement. "But we can't just leave you like this either" he had a sound of resignation in his voice.
Dean turned and looked at him. Oh no you don't!
" I am NOT babysitting a freaking ghost clown-car Sam!" He shook his head "no way"
Alix stood dripping on the floor "I'm right here, you know" she said under her breath.
Sam grabbed Dean by the shoulder and turned him so their backs were to the girl "Dean!" He hissed in a whisper "we can get her to Bobby, he can look after her, find a solution."
"Sam.." He started.
"This is not a negotiation" Sam said, looking Dean dead in the eye.
Dean grimaced "what?"
Sam's face meant business. They were having a stare-off again.
Dean set his jaw "fine, but don't expect me to like it." To Alix he said "Sam here will take you pick up whatever you stuff you need from your place. We leave in two hours"
As he walked past Sam he through a clenched jaw in his ear "two days drivin' Sam. Two days driving with a crapload of crazy in the backseat" he stomped towards the door and left by slamming it dramatically on his way out.
Alix had both her hands gripping the towel around her so hard her fingers were throbbing. When she noticed, she had to force them to relax.
Sam was standing with one hand on his hip, and the other on the table. He seemed to find his fingers on the table especially interesting right now.
"So..." she ventured "I'm not sure what just happened..."
Sam drew a tired breath, and let her have it "You are currently possessed by the ghosts of the Cunningham family. As you know, they are keeping you alive right now. This is, well..." he searched for a word, left it.
"Look. We made this mess, we're gonna fix it. We know someone who will know what to do. He lives about two days ride east. You are coming with us"
"The hell I am!" she said immediately.
"Either you come with us, or we kill you" final offer.
She stared in disbelief.
What's behind window two Jim?
"Can I at least borrow a clean shirt from you then, or will you have to kill me for that too?"