Season 13, Episode 2: the rising sun, in story format with minor canon divergence.
Teaser: flashbacks to Season 12 and the previous episode.
NOW:
Hell's Throne Room.
A thin demon in a suit, carrying a bottle in one hand, staggers across the throne room of Hell and speaks to a demon standing next to the throne with his arms crossed. "Protecting the throne, Drexel? Face it, we're done." He holds out the clear glass bottle, which Drexel ignores, then he drinks.
Drexel looks away with a scoff.
The thin demon staggers off the dais.
In boyish voice, Drexel says, "Lord Lucifer promised he would return. I have faith."
The thin bearded demon has turned around and leans against a table. "Do you even hear yourself?"
Electricity crackles. The demons in the throne room look around, startled.
Drexel takes out a cloth and dusts the seat of the throne with a self-satisfied smirk.
The doors to the throne room swing open. A bearded man with a faint resemblance to Cain, appears in a white suit, like Lucifer's suit in the Endverse. He saunters into the room. "On. Your. Feet."
Demons rise up as he walks past.
"I am Asmodeus," the demon says in an affected voice.
"Fourth Prince of Hell," Drexel mutters under his breath.
"I am here to rule until such time as Lucifer returns with his son. And there will be some changes. The underperforming and ineffective, the corporate lackeys in the Crowley era, are being purged. The grand ole days of fire and brimstone are back, " he says jauntily. "The following will step forward. Mr. Drexel. Mr. Harrington. Mr. Sierra."
The three demons step forward hesitantly.
"As for the rest of y'all," Asmodeus raises his hands like a conductor. He clenches his fists. The other demons clutch their necks, choking. Gold-tinged light explodes from their eyes and mouth.
Drexel, Harrington, and Sierra look around. The other demons collapse to the floor with burnt eye sockets.
Asmodeus takes off his white jacket and drapes it over the right arm of the throne. He turns around. "There's a new sheriff in town." He smiles and a glint of gold comes into his eyes.
SUPERNATURAL
The Impala screams down a dark road. Jack's asleep in the back and Dean is driving.
"Hey, we still got probably 12 hours until we're home," Sam says. "You want me to drive?"
"Do I ever want you to drive?" Dean snaps.
Sam thinks for the words to sway Dean with. "Look, losing mom and Cas, that's a lot to process Dean, especially on no sleep. And we need to think about how to handle the kid-
"The kid?" Dean interrupts. "Come on, man, you know how this plays out. Look, when we try to bend the rules, pretend that things can get better, that there's a magic fix-it, and the world's gonna be better, that's when people that we care about die. And then we end up doing what we should've done in the first place, which is to kill the monsters and burn the bodies. So this time, let's start with the obvious. Soon as I find a way to take care of … it."
"Dean, the 'problem' might be our only shot at saving mom," Sam says.
Dean looks at Sam. "Mom's gone. There's no fixing that," Dean says fatalistically.
In the alternate universe.
Lucifer hops awkwardly yet quickly down a steep, ashy hill, hits a trail at the bottom, then starts going up the other side. Mary picks her way down the slope considerably more carefully.
"Mary, pick up the pace," Lucifer snaps his fingers. "We got a lot of ground to cover."
Mary sits down on the ashy hillside in quiet defiance. "Not sure I see the point. Since no matter how this plays out, you're going to kill me."
Lucifer stares up at the gray sky with a scrunched face. "Why would I kill you?" He turns around to look at her. "Ah, because you think I'm evil." He stands still. "Let me tell you a couple things. You don't defy God, spend years dreamwalking through a tenuous, vestigial Grace-connection to torment an ex-vessel as he deserved, and then escape the Cage, without a modicum of cunning and a view, long-term. I have a game plan. If Sam comes here to rescue you, you're a ready-made hostage. And if I jump back and take you with me, you're collateral again, if your sons have my boy-"
"You can't possibly care about a child," Mary says.
"You don't know what I care about," Lucifer says as he scans the skies. "Down!" Lucifer shouts as he ducks.
A fireball streaks down, trailing black smoke, and lands on the side of the hill where Mary was sitting, with an explosion and a cloud of dust that drifts in the wind.
Lucifer uncovers his face as the dust dissipates. "What. The. Hell." He calls out in a loud voice, "Mary?"
Mary is gone.
Back in Hell's Throne Room.
Drexel throws open the heavy metal door with a clang, striding in awkwardly. His black suit has changed to street wear of skinny jeans and a t-shirt emblazoned: Lucifer...Lives Forever. "No trace of Lucifer, sir."
"Indeed," Asmodeus says from where he sits on the throne, with one leg tossed over the other in an affected pose.
"We scoured all of Hell and checked the cage. A thousand of the weakest demons have slipped out to scan the streets, sir," Drexel says, "...and a thousand more of the weakest demons can slip out every hour."
Asmodeus strokes his chin. "At this point, we must focus on the son."
"Yes, sir," Drexel says. "In the event that he lives, key personnel in shopping facilities selling diapers are top on the list-
Asmodeus cuts in, almost angry, "He is not an infant. New to this word, yes, but he is full of timeless knowledge and unschooled power. He lives! I know it. With Lucifer gone, we will place him on the throne, properly advised, of course."
"Yes, sir," Drexel says, opening up his black notebook. "Find son and install as ruler of Hell," Drexel looks up smarmily, "But continue to search for Lucifer. Because if we didn't, he'd be upset. And I can assure you, from personal experience, that an upset Lucifer has a, uh, short fuse."
Asmodeus grips lightly with his fingers in the air, and Drexel chokes. Another demon in the throne room looks on as Drexel staggers forward and drops onto his knees in front of Asmodeus.
Asmodeus grabs him by the tie. "Are you equating your paltry acquaintance with our lord to mine?"
"Uh," Drexel chokes.
"Mine which is borth from eons of service and sacrifice," Asmodeus says. He loosens his grip on Drexel.
Drexel coughs and gasps. "Ah, no! No."
"I know the perils of Lucifer's disappointment." Asmodeus lets go of Drexel. "...Long ago, eager to please, I freed the Shedim to wreck havoc on earth."
"... I've heard stories," Drexel whimpers.
Asmodeus cuts in. "Oh, I'm sure you have. Hell's most savage. But I, in my pride, believed that I could train them. Use them. But Lucifer despised them, as well he should. So he forbade it, locked them up again. He was…" Asmodeus draws two fingers down his scarred cheek, "...displeased with me and gave me this scar to bear as a mark of his wrath. I am his to command, as you are mine…. Write that down."
Black Hat Hotel:
A gaudy red, cream, and black sign shows the Black Hat Hotel. Police sirens wail in the distance.
Dean rounds a corner of the hallway, growling, "This is a bad idea, we should have just kept driving."
The hotel interior is a deep, rich red on the top half of the wall, and black on the bottom half, with decorative paintings in wood frames. Jack and Sam follow Dean.
Dean looks at the keys.
"Dude, you were hallucinating sheep on the road," Sam says cuttingly. "We need a few hours."
Dean enters the spacious room with deep blue walls, a red kitchenette, and two double beds.
"This is nice!" Jack says happily, as he looks around.
"Let's ward the room, get a bite, get a few hours of sleep, hit the road first thing," Sam says offscreen as Dean looks at the mud-yellow bathroom.
The TV turns on and the sounds of Scooby-doo come out.
Jack is sitting cross-legged on the end of a double bed with a designer comforter, and decorative lamps on dark wood furniture. "It's ... wonderful," he says, staring at the TV.
"Hey. No," Dean says, striding over and grabbing the remote off the top of the TV.
"But?" Jack looks at the screen, where Scooby winds up his cartoon tail and uses it as a motor to get away from a log with explosives.
Dean chuckles at the explosion, but then he says, "No."
Sam looks on, dismayed by the way Dean's treating Jack.
"...And you're on the couch, sport," Dean slams the remote on the TV. "So go over there… Sit down and …. here..." Dean picks up a black-covered bible from the bed stand as Jack obediently walks to the couch. Dean throws the bible on the couch.
"Read a book. We're out of here in a few hours," Dean says, and heads into the bathroom.
Jack flips open the Bible to a middle page, on the Song of Solomon.
Sam says in a low voice so Dean won't overhear, "Jack, hey, I can take the couch, why don't you…"
"Nono, it's fine," Jack says, eager to read the book.
Sam forces a smile, then takes his black bag and walks away while Jack returns to reading the bible.
A little later, Jack gobbles a hamburger with terrible manners. Dean sits next to him, giving him a look.
Sam tapes a paper on the door: it looks like sigil drawn in crayon on a torn piece of white takeout bag. Other protective sigils drawn on pieces of torn white paper, and the reverse side of a McDonald's style paper placemat are taped around the room.
"You can slow down, you know," Dean says thickly to Jack, his mouth full of food, as Sam walks to the coffee table and sits on a wood chair on the opposite side of the couch. "That stuff's not gonna disappear."
"Ever seen you eating, Dean?" Sam says pointedly.
Dean looks up, stunned at Sam's indirect rebuke for the way he's treating Jack. Dean slaps the burger down and grabs a beer.
Jack follows Dean and takes a beer too.
Dean puts out an arm, holding Jack back. "Wait, how old do you think you are?
"3 days, 17 hours, and 42 minutes," Jack says.
Dean looks at Sam, who makes a 'I don't know' frowny face, and doesn't say anything more. Dean looks at Jack and then takes a swig of beer and wipes his mouth with his hand.
Jack takes a swig of beer and wipes his mouth with his hand. Sam looks on as Dean sets his beer down with a thunk and brushes his hands off a little. Jack thunks his beer down and brushes his hands a lot. Dean notices the copying and glares at Jack again.
Sam smiles.
"This book," Jack puts his finger on the bible. "Mentions Lucifer."
"Oh yeah, he's… he's big in the bible," Dean says, bringing his burger to his mouth. "Lotta screen time."
"And you knew him?" Jack asks.
Sam says, "Well … it's … he's not easy to know. We … he …. In the beginning, he was one of the first angels God created. They fought Amara, the darkness, she's God's sister, and God sealed her with a Mark that he gave to Lucifer to carry. The Mark ... corrupted him."
Dean looks at Sam, downplaying Lucifer's actions and mentioning the Mark.
"And that's .. that's bad?" Jack asks.
"Damn straight. He's a full-on big bad. He tried to end the world. He turned on God," Dean explains.
"God, he's in here too," Jack interrupts. "Why?"
"Yeah, um, God, basically created everything," Sam explains, "...In the Judeo-Christian and Muslim mythology. Other gods from other mythologies exist, the Greek gods, Egyptian gods, Norse gods. We haven't worked out exactly how they fit together, and they each have their own creation myths-"
"Look, Lucifer was locked in the Cage in Hell where God put him to keep him from frying everyone. When we were fighting the Darkness, Castiel freed Lucifer to fight, and then God and Amara made up and skipped out, leaving guys like us to clean up his messes," Dean finishes.
"Is the Darkness gone?" Jack asks.
"Yeah," Dean says.
"So God's like my grandfather. He's family," Jack supposes. "Is that good?"
"Sometimes," Dean says, with one cheek stuffed with food. He grabs his beer and relaxes into the couch.
Jack grabs the beer and copies him.
"Okay, alright, will you stop," Dean grumps.
Jack looks disturbed and sits up, still holding the beer.
"So, Jack, we know Kelly taught you things before you were born. And obviously, you can, you know, make people or things move with your mind and um, heal from a stab wound. But, um, what else can you do?" Sam says.
"I...don't know," Jack says.
"Okay, for instance, say you wanted to be someplace else right, now. Could you?" Sam asks.
"Can you teleport?" Dean asks bluntly, chewing the last mouthful of burger.
"Teleport?" Jack asks.
"Yes," Dean says. "If you wanted to be on the other side of that door, right this instant, what would you do?"
Jack gets up.
"What?" Dean says.
Jack walks to the warded door, unlocks it, and opens it, walks on the other side, then closes it.
"Great," Dean says and takes a swig of beer.
Jack knocks on the door.
Dean swallows his beer and closes his eyes.
"You know, it's possible he's more human than we thought," Sam says.
Dean shakes his head.
Sam opens the door.
Jack smiles happily. "Like that!"
"Come on. You're trying to tell me that you didn't pick up anything before you were born. That your father never reached out to you?" Dean says.
Jack flashes back to a memory of red eyes and Lucifer chained to a chair in Hell.
"What?" Dean says.
"Jack. Hey. You alright?" Sam asks.
"Yeah, I'm alright," Jack opens his eyes.
Outside the motel room, a bulky, trenchcoated figure waddles down the red and black hallway.
Inside the room, Sam says, "Alright, I say we, uh, get some rest," he shuffles on his chair and puts his hands on his thighs. "It's been a long day."
Dean rubs an eye.
"We're startin' early tomorrow," Sam says.
A noise. Sam looks and Dean follows his gaze, while Jack doesn't notice the tension.
Sam sees a shadow cross the bottom of the door. He points, and Dean gets up. Jack starts to notice what's going on. Dean pats Jack's knee and Jack heads back.
Sam hands an angel-blade to Dean. Sam has a pistol out and points it at the door, a flask in easy reach in his pocket.
Dean puts his hand on the doorknob.
Sam nods.
Dean opens the door, grabs the trench-coated guy standing outside, and throws him on the floor. He slams the warded door.
The overweight guy with glasses looks up blearily at the 3 faces hovering over him. It's Donatello, the prophet from Season 11.
"Donatello?" Sam asks.
"Sam, Dean, is God with you?" the prophet asks.
"No. You okay?" Sam says.
Donatello gets up and crashes on the couch, holding his hat. "Pretty much. No soul of course, thanks to Amara. It's like losing your nose. You never really noticed it when you had it, but you miss it when it's gone. Now, when I come to a moral crossroads, I ask myself, 'What would Mr. Rogers do?' As soon as I nail that, I'm usually good."
"Why are you here?" Dean asks.
Donatello takes a deep breath. "Yes, that is the question we all must ask."
Dean turn away, then back at Donatello, shrugging his head like rolling his eyes with his entire head, "Why are you in Wyoming?"
"Oh! Uh well ... ahem... after God left, I said to myself, Donatello you are so retired. I mean, who needs a prophet of God when there is no God. So, a few days ago, I'm online checking out condos in Boca, and I am knocked off my feet by this weird wave of power. Not exactly like God's. More like ... something new, something fresh. I was drawn to it. It's here." Donatello looks at Jack. "Wow." He sits up and looks at Jack.
Jack looks blank.
"Who are you?" Donatello asks.
"I'm Jack."
"Jack is a nephilim," Sam says.
"A child of human and an angel," Donatello says stentoriously.
"Archangel actually, … Lucifer," Sam says.
"Lucifer?" Donatello's taken aback.
"And Donatello here, is a prophet," Sam says to Jack.
"Which means he has a direct line to God, to Heaven," Dean says.
"Yeah, well, not so much anymore. But, uh …" Donatello gets up and holds his hands in front of Jack, like he's warming them by a fire. "Look at you. The waves of power. So intense."
"Maybe less human than we thought," Dean says to Sam.
"Fascinating. You know I've met your father," Donatello says. "Your power's nothing like his. Not dark not toxic."
Sam looks at Dean.
"If Jack is sending out a signal strong enough to get Donatello all the way out here... The angels are still out there. I mean, who knows what else might be listening. He needs more protection," Sam says.
A Tattoo Parlor
"All right, so uh," Sam shuffles a stack of papers in his hands as he speaked to a scrawny tattoo artist wearing a vest over pajamas, with crazy, half-shaved hair that looks like he was woken from bed at 1 am and didn't style it.
"I'm thinking something like this, right about here," Sam pats the air over Jack's naked chest. Jack is lying down on a reclined chair. "Exactly like this." Sam lets go of the paper, a creased pen drawing of an anti-possession sigil, "and this," Sam puts another paper with a more complex symbol on Jack's chest.
"And you're cool with this?" the tattoo artist asks Jack.
Jack nods, "Yeah," of course is implied by his tone.
"W… we're brothers, it's kind of like a family crest," Sam says, drawing back his brown jacket and shirt to show his anti-possession tattoo. "He has to have it before we meet the rest of the family tomorrow," he lies smoothly and pats the tattoo artist's back.
The guy shakes his head as he looks at the designs.
Sam walks to Dean as the tattoo artist starts to work. "So you heard Donatello. No evil vibes from Jack."
"Proves nothing. Except you're way too attached to this kid," Dean says. "You need to see this for what it is, okay? I mean, what do you need, a sign?"
"Dean, whatever his powers are or will be, they could be used for good. And look at what he's done so far-"
Jack winces, and the tattoo machine explodes with sparks and white smoke floats out of it. The tattoo artist is thrown across the room, hits the wall at head-height, and falls to the ground.
"Ugh," the tattoo artist groans.
Dean takes a step to stand angrily at the head of the chair. "Did you do that?" he demands of Jack.
"I'm not sure," Jack says.
"Hey, you alright?" Sam crouches where the tattoo artist has fallen.
"It hurt," Jack says.
"Sometimes things hurt, so you just man up and deal with it," Dean says harshly.
"Yes, I understand," Jack says resigned. "Pain is part of the human experience. Accepting it is, when necessary, is a sign of maturity."
"Okay, uh," Sam says.
The tattoo artist gets up groggily.
Sam tries to help him up, but the tattoo artist shrugs him off. "Ugh," the tattoo artist limps into place next to Jack. "I have a backup needle," and he points at Sam and then at a cabinet. "The box in that cabinet, upper right, white box…."
Sam walks to the cabinet and gets him the box, taking out the needle. The tattoo artist takes it and hooks it up. He doesn't look at Sam or Dean, just at Jack. "Let's finish this."
Sam looks at Dean.
A while later, the tattoo guy has his needle out and finishes inking Jack. "Okey dokey," the tattoo artist says, as he turns off the needle and then puts it away.
Jack looks at his chest, where there's a sigil over the middle of his chest and a smaller anti-possession sigil on the upper left. He sits up.
"Looks good, Jack," Sam says.
Jack looks down at his chest. The tattoos disappear.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean says.
Sam looks at the back of the tattoo artist and steps between him and Jack. He hands Jack his shirt.
The three walk to the Impala, parked inside the cluttered industrial garage of the tattoo parlor.
Past the metal doors, a homeless woman pushes a grocery cart past the opening, as Jack, Sam, and Dean get in the Impala.
The doors slam. Her eyes turn black.
The motel room.
Back in the motel room, Sam whispers to Dean and Donatello. "It was a reflex. He didn't do it on purpose." Sam, Dean, and Donatello stand near the door.
Jack sits on the couch, halfway across the room, listening to the adults talk.
"Who care if he didn't do it on purpose, he did it," Dean says. "I mean, you didn't see Cas smiting doctors and nurses when he was in the hospital."
"I'm right here, you know," Jack says.
"Yeah, and what about the vanishing tattoo?" Dean says.
"An archangel healing itself," Donatello says.
"Or maybe he didn't want to be warded," Dean says.
"Okay, look yeah, Jack is on Lucifer's family tree, but we don't know if that means more than Kelly's, or his connection to Cas," Sam whispers urgently.
"Oh, you mean the connection that got Cas killed! By Lucifer, his father!" Dean says.
"I'm just saying that Jack doesn't have to be evil," Sam says.
Dean scoffs.
"Ah, the nature versus nurture conundrum," Donatello pats Sam and Dean on their shoulders.
"Hey," Dean says.
"Dude!" Sam says when Donatello doesn't let go.
Donatello lets go. "Oh, speaking not as a prophet, but as a scientist. I don't think teaching him is in the cards. It's like asking a lion not to be a lion."
Sam shakes his head. "You're soulless! And this isn't a lion, this is a human!"
"With a strong dose of God juice," Donatello says.
"Okay, that's it, I'm done alright," Dean says. "'Cause he's not God, he's not Cas, he's not Simba. He's the son of the friggin' Devil." Dean waves his arm at the couch where Jack was sitting.
Jack is gone.
"Jack?" Sam says.
Outside the motel.
Jack is outside, sitting cross-legged on a red crate against against a blue painted, concrete wall next to a dumpster. He flashbacks to memories of Kelly: "I love you, Jack. I love you so much." Kelly holding Castiel's hold. Kelly saying, "You are gonna be amazing."
"Jack? … Jack." It's Sam. He stands with his hands in his pockets, his tan jacket shrugged up from his hunched shoulders. "Hey."
Jack looks away, hiding his face in his elbow, sniffling.
"Hey bud, we uh, we been looking for you," Sam says.
Jack puts his feet on the ground and holds the edges of the crate. He doesn't look at Sam as he speaks. "I'm sorry. I… everyone was so angry."
"Yeah and um, I suppose you wanted to be away from it." Sam takes his hands out of his pockets. They're right outside the hotel. The sign is in the background.
"And suddenly I was," Jack says. "I can teleport."
"I tell you what," Sam says, taking a yellow crate off a stack and sitting next to Jack. "You got some special skills, Jack. That's for sure. We just need to make sure to get a grip on them, so you don't hurt anybody."
"Is that why Dean hates me?" Jack asks.
"Dean doesn't hate you," Sam looks away, then back at Jack. "It… look sometimes the wires in Dean's head gets crossed and... and he gets frustrated. And then he mixes frustration with anger, and-and-and with fear."
"Why would he be afraid?" Jack asks.
"Because Dean feels like it's his job to protect everyone," Sam says. "And right now, we need to protect you. But we also may need to protect people from you."
Jack looks upset and starts to cry again. "I'm not bad."
"Jack, your mom loved you and wanted the best for you. She believed in you, in your goodness. So did Cas. So do I." Sam puts his hand on Jack's shoulder.
Black Spur Bar
Inside a bar, a waitress in a white shirt walks around a pool table. She carries a circular tray with four beers and stops near Dean. "Getcha another?" She asks.
"Yeah, sure," Dean glances up to check her out, then glances through the windows. Across the street, Sam and Jack are sitting together on their crates.
"What the hell, you're not drivin', right," the waitress says. "I just, I've seen you around the hotel. Passin' through with - what .. your buddies?"
"Uh..., that's my brother and a messed up kid," Dean says.
"Awww... the kids messed up," she says sympathetically.
"Yeah, issues with his dad," Dean says.
"The older fella," the waitress says.
"No, that's uh, … he's a guy we work with," Dean says. "Thought he died, but he's a tough son of a bitch."
"You know, I hated my old man. I ran away myself ... See, my mom would never stick up for me… but, you know kids. No matter what, they still want the old man's approval. Well, that's how it was for me…."
"You know, that's uh…" Dean trails off. "That's how it was with me too."
The waitress leans against the pool table. "And what about the kid?"
"Different story. He had a foster father…."
Dean looks through the windows. Across the street, Sam and Jack are gone.
"You know what, I'm good, I'll take a walk," Dean finishes his glass and sets it down on the counter. He takes out his wallet and leaves money on the counter. "There you go, thank you."
As he walks away, the view lowers to the dead body of the waitress talking to Dean. Her throat has been cut, messily, and left on the floor behind the bar.
The door closes on the empty bar. With a shimmer, the waitress turns into Asmodeus. He picks up a glass and takes a drink with an affected shake of his head.
Black Hat Hotel Room
A knock on the door.
Sam is sitting at a table, looking at his tablet. "Who is it?" he asks, walking to the door.
"Donatello," the man outside the door says.
Sam opens the door.
"Hey," Sam says.
"Good morning!" Donatello says cheerfully.
"How's Jack?" Sam asks as they sit at the table. "Uh, by the way, sorry to stick him with you. Things got a little tense here, last night, so I figured it'd be better to have him stay in your room."
"It's not a big deal, he's an interesting kid," Donatello says.
"Yeah, yeah, that's an understatement," Sam says.
"Le-let me ask ya, do you have any idea how powerful he'll get to be?"
"I-don't, no. But, the lore says, quote, a nephilim becomes more powerful than the angel who sires it," Sam flips through his tablet, where he has digitized lorebooks. "In this case, the sire is an archangel. So..."
"Does he know about his father?" Donatello asks.
"Vaguely," Sam says.
"So... he's not bonded to Lucifer," Donatello draws a conclusion.
"He seems to a have a real attachment to his mom, but only kind of a fuzzy idea about his dad. And his mom, Kelly was a good person."
"Do you think you could be molded?" Donatello asks.
"Well, sure, of course." Sam smiles, "He was copying Dean last night, but...he tends towards good on his own," Sam says.
"Mm, yes." Donatello says. He knocks on wood. And Sam follows that and knocks on the table. "I hope you're right," he says as he gets up to leave.
"Yeah," Sam says.
In the alternate universe:
Mary walks past a body preserved in the ashy soil. She stumbles down a short, steep slope with a grunt. On the level ground, littered by bodies and rock, with a tilted wooden house in the background, instinct makes her stop and back away.
An armed guy jumps out from behind a rock, swinging his assault rifle to point at her.
Mary startles and puts up her hands.
"Who the hell are you?" the man says nervously. His voice is weedy.
"Mary. Mary Winchester, I'm a hunter."
"Doubt it," the guy says quickly, inching forward. "Come here," he beckons with one hand, his voice deeper.
Mary reluctantly walks closer.
The man puts his hand out to stop. "You don't walk like an angel. They all walk like they got sticks up their asses."
He sloshes a splash of holy water over her. Mary sighs.
"Not a demon neither," he says, surprised.
Mary drops her arms to her sides. "I told you." She sounds annoyed, even bitter.
"I ain't never met a female hunter," he says. "Not many women, period, since the wars began."
"Wars?" Mary asks tensely.
"What rock you been under?" the man says with perfect disbelief.
"I'm not from around here," Mary says.
"Oh," the man nods.
"I don't know anything. I just got attacked by some kind of fireball or something."
The man chuckles and drops his weapon, scratching his mouth. "Heh. Angels, yeah. Always taking shots." He walks closer. "Maybe I can ... help you ... find your way," he says intensely.
"I'm good," Mary says, backing away a little.
"Let's keep this friendly, huh?" the man grabs her arm.
Mary punches him. They grapple. "Bitch!" the man grunts. He throws her to the ground and she falls on her back.
He raises his assault rifle to kill her. Mary puts out her hand, but…
"Uuuuu!"
A fist punches through the man's chest. He's pinioned for a moment, with his back arched, then he falls.
Lucifer is standing behind him, gore from the man's chest covering his hand.
Mary looks up.
Lucifer flicks his fingers. "You're welcome, Mary. I'm … disappointed you left without me. What is wrong with you? We need each other. This is a no-brainer. We get out of this theme park, we both get our children back."
"You think I want you to win?" Mary says defiantly.
Lucifer sighs, with a cold look, he snaps his fingers and Mary doubles over, clutching her stomach, and falls over in agony.
He waits a long moment, then snaps his fingers again.
Mary flattens on the ground in relief.
"There's a lesson for you. I have all the power. You will work with me, or I will make you suffer."
Mary sits up, giving Lucifer a subdued glare.
Black Hat Hotel Room
Dean comes in, carrying a paper bag of food and a molded cardboard tray with two cups of coffee.
"Hey," Sam says, looking up from his phone. "Look, we are gonna be on the road a long time today. Right?"
Dean sets the food down and takes a seat at the table. "Yeah, well, you know, we don't have to be, 'cause your new pal could zap up back to the Bunker," Dean snaps his fingers, "Like that." He takes a cup.
"Point is," Sam sighs, "If you and I are going to do this, keep Jack on the right side of things, then-then we have to be on the same page."
"Okay, well, that's the problem though, Sam, 'cause we're not on the same page, like at all," Dean says shortly.
Sam sighs. "Alright, you know, I know what's going on here," and sits back in his chair.
"Oh, okay, well please tell me, what's going on here," Dean says sarcastically.
"You. Thinking mom's gone, Cas' gone, and that Jack can't be saved." Sam sighs and sits forward. "Dean, we just lost people we love. People who have been in our lives for a long time. Everything's upside-down, I get it. But we've been down before, I mean rock-bottom. And we find a way! We fix it, because that's what we do. And Jack, wants to do the right thing. Jack's scared to death of who he is and he's scared of you. He doesn't have to be. Will you… lighten up on him! The best we can do is to keep Jack on the right side, or help him change, so he is on the right-" Sam tacks on to forestall argument.
There's a knock on the door.
Sam sighs. "Who is it?" he asks as he gets up.
"Donatello," the voice comes from outside the door.
Sam opens the door and Donatello comes inside. "Mornin' guys. Uh got a minute? I, uh, wanna talk to you about Jack."
Sam says questioningly, "But we just talked about Jack?"
"What?" Donatello says.
"You were just here," Sam says.
"No I wasn't, I was grabbing breakfast burritos, extra spicy," Donatello lifts his white plastic takeout bag.
Dean gets up quickly. He leads the three of them down the red hallway, into a colorful turquoise room. The covers on the beds are thrown back.
"Jack?" Dean calls out.
"He's gone," Sam whispers. "Okay, okay, so-so-so who's got Jack, uh. Who was I - or what was I talking to? A shifter?"
"What would a shifter want with Jack?" Dean shoots the idea down.
Donatello drops the takeout bag, his hands rest on the upper curve of his stomach. In a trance, he walks behind Sam.
"Where you going, cowboy?" Dean demands.
"He-he went this way," Donatello says quietly.
"You sure?" Sam asks.
"I can feel it," Donatello says.
"I'll get the gear," Dean says.
Dean strides down the hallway and into their room. He grabs Sam's tablet and puts it in the bag.
A floorboard creaks. Dean dodges, starting a visually interesting and dynamic fight scene, the awesomeness of which cannot be captured by words: A walrus-mustached bald guy swings a knife, Dean dodges, the knife stabs into the table. Dean grabs the guy's knife arm, slams him in the face. They grapple. Dean swings him so the man faceplants onto the table, twisting the guy's arm. The man pushes up with demonic strength … and punches Dean. Dean rocks back. The man punches Dean again, then slams him against the window, spins Dean and throws him on the table, punching him again. Dean grapples the demon with his legs and punches the demon's head. The demon stands up, carrying Dean and walks Dean's head through the lower edge of black moulding or a support brace, breaking it off, and then slams Dean on the bed. Dean scoots back, weakly, dazed. The man walks around the side of the bed with black eyes.
Out of nowhere, the demon lights up. Sam's standing behind the demon. With a grunt, Sam pulls the blade out of the demon's back and the demon falls to the floor with a thunk.
"Demons," Dean says.
"I guess the word's out," Sam says, breathing heavily.
"Donatello," Dean says.
They scramble out of the room. Dean grabs an angel blade from the bag on the floor.
In the hallway, Sam freezes as he sees Donatello thrown into the wall. A demon in a butcher's apron, jeans, workboots, and a t-shirt, carrying a knife, grabs Donatello by the neck and slams the prophet into the wall again.
Dean hefts the angel blade and throws it. The blade spins end over end and sprouts from the side of the demon's neck. The demon lights up.
The demon collapses against the other wall and falls heavily against the radiator underneath the window.
Sam smiles.
"Uh, housekeeping is not gonna like this," Dean says as he strides to Donatello and the body.
Sam makes a face and hurries after Dean.
A prairie of green grass and purple wildflowers.
A silver Toyota corolla pulls up to a depression littered with wood. "Jack," Donatello and Jack are in the front seats.
"Yes…. God has a message for you. You must prepare yourself, Jack. Train yourself to use your gifts, to fulfil your destiny."
"How?" Jack asks.
Donatello looks at him, but doesn't answer that question. "Let's fulfill your destiny." Donatello gets ouf the car.
Jack slowly walks down the slope after him.
"Long ago, a troop of God's bravest soldiers were trapped in a distant cavern in a place called Hell," Donatello orates beautifully.
"I've read about Hell. It doesn't sound nice," Jack says simply.
"It's not!... That's why we have to rescue the soldiers. They're called the Shedim. And God wants you to set them free. To be a hero," Donatello says.
"I could do that?" Jack says.
Donatello laughs and spreads his arms briefly. "And so much more." He walks a little further and frames a patch of earth with his hands. "You see that patch of earth there? Imagine the force of your will, drilling down into infinite darkness, the soldiers being drawn to the surface!" Donatello raises his hands. "Do it Jack! Do it for God!"
Jack concentrates.
"Focus," Donatello says.
"I'm trying," Jack says.
"Try harder, boy!" Donatello urges.
Jack shutters his eyes.
A road.
The Impala speeds on a road past wild greenery.
Donatello sit in the back. "Uh, turn!" Donatello taps Dean on the shoulder to get his attention.
Dean takes the turn with a screech of tires.
"This is worrisome, I'm sensing a power emanation alongside Jack's," Donatello says. "It gets stronger the closer we get to it."
Sam looks up from the journal he is looking through.
Jasper 3 mi, the green highway post says.
"Jasper, Wyoming?" Donatello says disbelievingly.
"Maybe it's an angel," Dean suggests.
"No something dark," Donatello says.
Dean says. "Alright, well see if anything in Jasper is demony."
"Yeah, there is. According to dad's journal, Jasper is home to its very own Gate to Hell. It gets better," Sam says.
"Fantastic," Dean says sarcastically.
"According to legend, this particular gate leads to, quote, a place where unimaginable evil emanates from creatures too wicked for the Pit to hold," Sam says.
"What the hell does that mean?" Dean asks.
Donatello faceplants into the back of the bench seat. "They're really bad," he says almost drolly, hands gripping the seat.
Sam, Dean, and Donatello exchange glances.
"The Shedim. The movers and shakers in the world who use their influence for evil, successfully … are locked away in a special section of the Pit made to hold them," Donatello says. "Ey, turn!" He points quickly.
In the alternate universe.
Mary looks up and sees the same, crooked wooden house, from a different angle. They've been walking in a circle.
"I'm tired," Mary says, subtly distracting Lucifer.
Lucifer turns to look at her and laughs, "We need to get back before -who knows what- happens to my son. You and your ilk are the reason we're trapped here, with my senses blinded by angel warding spells. How they carved them into this ash, I don't know." He looks up at the pillars. "It's not the pillars or I would knock them down. So you will walk on your weak little legs and breathe with your fragile human lungs and keep going. The longer we stay here, the worse it will get for you."
Wings flap. Five people dressed in camos appear, facing in all directions.
"Greetings," Lucifer says.
"The reek of Hell is on you," one of the young angels says.
"That would be her," Lucifer points at Mary.
"False," the angel says. "Identify yourself."
"I'm Ambriel," Lucifer says. "Don't you recognize me?" He pats his chest coyly.
"You speak falsely," the angel says.
"What! Can't you sense who I am, brother?" Lucifer takes a step forward.
"Freeze!" the angel says.
"Oh… are you going to smite me?" Lucifer pretends to gasp.
"On my command," the angel raises his fist. Blue glints in the angel's eyes.
Lucifer snaps his fingers. The angels explode: blue light in a cloud of black smoke that fades almost immediately.
Mary looks up from where she was covering her head.
"The angels in this universe…," Lucifer says. "Did they glow? ...Were my eyes glowing?" He asks Mary, flustered.
She hesitates, then shakes her head. "I didn't see."
Woosh. Thump.
A fireball lands on the ground. Lucifer and Mary turn away from the smoke and dust.
An angel appears in the crater and furls his wings, showing as a shadow on the ashy hillside behind him. His vessel is a black man in a dark duster. He approaches. "You should be dead," he says to Lucifer.
"Who are you, and what spaghetti western coughed you up?" Lucifer says. "Treat your vessel with a little style!" Lucifer snaps his fingers.
Nothing happens.
"Don't you know me, brother?" Michael says.
"Michael?" Lucifer says.
A prairie of green grass and purple wildflowers.
"Summon up the force of all your will, Jack. Do it for God!" Donatello urges.
Jack breathes heavily, he shivers, and his cheeks shake. His eyes burn gold.
The ground falls away in front of Donatello, and Asmodeus-in disguise - shouts in triumph.
Reddish magma shows beneath the earth that crumbles away.
"You're doing it! He's doing!" Donatello dances in a circle. "Yes!"
Jack grits his teeth, and his crooked smile widens in evil delight.
The Impala roars on the road leading to the depression.
"It's working!" Jack says in his boyish voice. The light fades from his eyes.
"Don't lose focus! Don't lose focus, Jack!" Donatello waves his arms frantically.
A clawed hand with blackened nails rises up and grabs the log at the edge of the hole.
"Yes, yes!" Donatello says.
Jack's eyes light up again.
"He's doing it. Keep focused!" Donatello shouts to the sky.
The liver-spotted arm of the Shedim, searches the grass for a hand-hold. The creature growls and breathes heavily as it drags itself through the Gate.
The Impala purrs on the dirt road leading to the depression and stops on the dead grass of an improvised parking lot, next to the silver Corolla.
Sam gets out first. "Jack, hey stop!"
Jack turns around.
"Don't listen to them, Jack" the false Donatello shouts.
"Holy, crap," Dean mutters as he runs up with the real Donatello.
A second clawed arm appears at the edge of the Gateway to Hell.
"Focus!" the false Donatello says.
"That's not me, Jack, that's not Donatello," the real Donatello shouts.
"No, that's not Donatello!" the false Donatello says, even more emphatically.
"Ah, screw this," Dean says, drawing his gun from his front pocket. He shoots the false Donatello.
Asmodeus appears in a shimmer of gray smoke. His eyes burn yellow.
"Jack, he's a demon," Sam points at Asmodeus.
"Howdy, boys," Asmodeus drawls, drawing his crooked hand across the air. Dean, Sam, and Donatello start to choke.
"No!" Jack says. The partly opened Gate to Hell quickly closes. There's no trace of the Shedim that was partway through.
"Jack," Asmodeus says. "They wanna stop you. Contain you. I… I can give you the world. Help you, fulfill your destiny!"
Jack looks at Sam and Dean choking. Filled with rage, he says, "You're hurting my friends!" His eyes glow gold and his cheeks quiver.
Asmodeus teleports away.
The light fades from Jack's eyes. Dean, Sam and Donatello stop choking. Donatello rolls onto his back.
Jack looks uncertainly at Sam and Dean, and then his face closes.
In the alternate universe.
From this angle, a dead creature with horns is visible, lying on the sand and ash.
Michael faces Lucifer and Mary. "You. Are. Lucifer. I can feel it. How is this possible?"
"Um, " Lucifer furrows his brow. "Alternate universes, interdimensional travel..." He shrugs. "You're a cheap knockoff to the Michael I left behind, and he's drooling on the floor of the Cage in a vessel that's only half ... of what he needs … and yours is less."
"I killed my brother. Tore him apart over the skies of Abilene," Michael says. "But, fortune favors me."
Thunderclap.
"Um," Lucifer says. He punches Michael in the face and Michael staggers back.
Mary quickly backs away.
Michael and Lucifer exchange blows … one round … a second ... Michael grabs Lucifer's arm and twists it, slowly breaking the arm and the joints.
"Hurt?" Michael demands.
"No, it's kinda wimpy," Lucifer lies. He screams in agony. "What you gonna do? Kill me?"
"No. I need you," Michael says as he twists Lucifer's arm further.
The Bunker.
Sam and Dean sit next to each other against the wall. The table in front of them has a couple beer bottles, and a journal is in front of Sam.
Sam flips through the journal. "These yellow-eyed things just keep on coming, huh?"
"Mmm-hmmm, and hopefully this fourth Prince of Hell is the last in the family," Dean says and takes a small swig of beer.
"According to this, if that was Asmodeus, it's the end of the line," Sam says. "He's the last demon that Lucifer created personally, and the least powerful."
Dean nods and gets up.
"Dean, wait a second."
Dean pauses and looks at Sam.
Sam says, "The kid came through for us today. Jack saved us."
"No. No, whatever that was, that was a sneeze. Maybe next time he sneezes he kills us. Good night," Dean says.
Sam gives Dean a look.
Dean walks into the hallway. He stops to home in a noise and follows it to a bathroom.
Jack has his back to the door, and is holding a bloody knife, stabbing himself with it. He looks at the knife and his chest. The wounds disappear, leaving bloody stab marks in his white undershirt.
"Okay what the hell!" Dean shoves the door open and walks inside. He puts his beer bottle on the sink. "Give me that." He takes the knife with both hands. "Don't be an idiot! Look, A, this is not gonna do anything to you, okay? And B, you … you don't stab yourself!"
"I deserve to be punished," Jack asks in a shaky voice. He turns away from Dean. "That demon fooled me into opening a Gate to Hell ... I can't …" He looks at Dean. "I will hurt someone."
Dean starts to walk away, then he says, "You know, my brother thinks you can be saved."
"You don't believe that," Jack says.
"No, I don't," Dean says.
"So... if you're right?" Jack asks.
"If I'm right, and it comes to killing you, I will End you," Dean says.
Dean takes the beer he put on the sink and walks out.
The End.
#Note: What did you think of the changes? Mostly minor fix-its, more info on Shedim, Lucifer's dialogue and 'dream walking' to torment Sam in season 7 and then more on why he's staying in the alternate universe. I liked the tattoo artist and added a tiny bit more. Didn't like Asmodeus and Drexel - too campy - or the alternate universe angels. Added a car to the scene with Donatello and Jack at the Gate to Hell to explain how they got there. Also changed Sam's dialogue to make it follow better that Asmodeus tries to trick Jack instead of going welcome to the evil side.
