As the boys loaded up their hunting gear from the boot of the car, Sam began to snap out of his foul humour. The thought of the fragile wall in his head had been haunting him ever since he learned about it. The last few days of aimless demon hunting had made him irritable and it only left room in his mind to worry about his mental health. Seeing these demons on the move now meant that he could focus his energy on hunting. He definitely needed the distraction.
Dean discretely tucked the sawn-off shotgun beneath his coat while Sam grabbed a couple of bottles of holy water, salt and Ruby's knife. They exchanged glances of silent acknowledgement and crossed the street in pursuit of the demons. There were perhaps half a dozen of them. They didn't all walk in line with each other but it was obvious they were all heading for the same destination. The brothers followed cautiously, keeping a safe distance so as not to be noticed.
After a couple of blocks, they reached an old abandoned apartment building. The structure's exterior was blackened from a past fire and the windows were glassless. Dean and Sam waited until all the demons were inside before they approached the building. They flanked the entryway, Sam straining to hear what the demons were saying to each other.
"-upstairs - in here somewhere-" They were just fragments of the demons' mutterings but Sam was starting to get the picture. They were looking for something. Slowly he peered around the corner. As the last demon disappeared up the naked concrete stairs he gave Dean a nod indicating go time. The brothers entered in unison, Dean with the shotgun cocked, Sam with the knife before him. Years of hunting together had synced these boys' skills, enabling them to plan an ambush almost telepathically. They knew each other's moves, expressions and body language better than anyone and that was what made the Winchesters an exceptional team.
Suddenly, Sam was grabbed from behind, rough arms slipping under his and locking around the back of his neck.
"Sam!" Dean yelled, shotgun at the ready.
Sam threw his arms straight up, kicking his legs out so that his weight allowed him to slip through his assailant's grip. He landed painfully as his coccyx hit the hard concrete floor. Dean took no time to hesitate, pulling the trigger immediately and sending two shells of rock salt to the demon's face. Sam, trying to ignore the breathtaking agony at the base of his spine, swerved on his knees, driving the knife into the demon's gut. Orange light flashed from the demon's eyes, mouth and knife wound before it collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
Sam rose to his feet, shaking fragments of rock salt from his floppy brown hair.
"Company," snapped Dean, indicating the other demons that were hurrying down the stairs to join the commotion.
There were two demons simultaneously aiming for Sam. Sam grabbed a bottle of holy water from his coat, untwisting the cap with his teeth. He drove the knife into the female demon while dowsing the other male with holy water. Both creatures screamed in anguish. In one swift movement, Sam yanked the knife from the dead demon's chest and the tip of the blade met his second assailant as it lunged forward to attack him.
Dean was holding his own, but the shotgun did little more than temporarily slow down the hell spawn. Sam marched toward him, effortlessly slicing the knife through the throat of the demon closest. There were now two demons left, one male, one female. As Dean raised his shotgun he was violently swept across the bare, blackened room and was pinned to the wall by an invisible force. It took that fraction of a second for the female to take advantage of Sam's distraction and she knocked him to the ground, clutching his throat with impossibly strong hands. The knife went skittering across the room and Sam was completely defenceless.
"Sammy!" yelled Dean, who struggled futilely against the demon's telepathic grip.
The female smiled wickedly at Sam, staring down at him with infinitely black eyes. Sam was starting to feel light headed, his lungs coughing in painful spasms in an attempt suck in air. He was beginning to see stars and he knew he was going to die…and then something happened. The grip on his throat was released and the demon was screaming, her back arched in agony as orange lightening flickered from her facial orifices. Sam rolled over on his front gasping air into his painful lungs. The final demon escaped its vessel in a train of black smoke and Dean fell heavily to the ground. It took a moment for Sam to fully gather his bearings.
"You ok, Sammy?" Dean asked wearily.
"Yeah," Sam coughed, "What the hell just happened?"
Dean nodded at something behind Sam. Rolling back, Sam found himself facing a girl clutching his knife and frozen in terror.
"I know you," said Sam, studying the girl's face. It was the girl from the missing persons leaflet back at the diner, the girl with the murdered family. Her photo portrayed her as a bit of a Plain Jane but she looked very different in reality. Her lank hair and M-shaped lips were coloured blood red and contrasted sharply against her ice blue eyes and snow white skin. She wore a red checked shirt, with forest-green skinny jeans and black, studded ankle boots. She appeared quite striking in comparison to the photo, but Sam thought that maybe this was her disguise…maybe she wanted to stay missing.
"You're…not a demon," Sam assumed, rising to his feet.
The girl shook her head anxiously.
"Can I have my knife back?" Sam held out a hand. The girl raised the knife defensively.
"Are you going to kill me?" her voice quivered with a soft Australian accent.
"You just saved me and my brother's lives," Sam reassured, "We're not going to kill you."
She reluctantly complied, handing back the knife.
"I'm Sam. That's my brother, Dean." Sam gestured towards Dean who had picked himself up and was inspecting his shotgun for damage.
"I'm Trish," the girl replied shyly.
"Well, Trish, would you mind telling us what's going on?" Sam asked gently.
At that point, the girl's expression switched from fear to exasperation.
"Tell you what's going on?" she cried, surprising the brothers, "Why don't you tell me what's going on? I've had these assholes chasing me for months! They killed my whole family and they won't stop until I'm dead too! Do you know how many towns I've run through, how many disguises I've worn? I had to pretend to be a boy for two whole weeks! And then you two clowns show up to tango with these douche bags, and you're asking me questions?"
Sam and Dean exchanged awkward glances. They were now more confused about this case than before.
"Look, we just want to help," Sam spoke calmly, "Anything you can tell us about how this all started will help us to help you."
Trish's features softened and she heaved a tired sigh.
"What are you, like, demon slayers or something?" she asked jadedly.
"Something like that," Dean replied, "We can keep you safe, but we need to have a very long chat first."
"Where can we go where she can be safe?" Sam interjected, "That last demon that escaped could be summoning an entire brigade by now."
"Well first, we get the hell out of here. I ain't waiting for no frickin' demon brigade to come along. Then we head straight to Bobby's bunker. Those sons of bitches can't touch her there."
"Hmph, good call," Sam nodded, wondering why he hadn't thought of it sooner.
Sam was initially concerned about Trish's willingness to trust Dean and himself, but she probably figured they were the only good thing she had going on over the last four months. Sam could tell she was exhausted and she just wanted the demon attacks to stop. He paused and smiled to himself. It was good to have a soul again.
The boys loaded up the car and headed out of state, taking the shortest route to Bobby's. Trish sat in the backseat, mostly in silence while Dean explained the concept of hunters, demons and other things that go bump in the night. The brother's asked their new travelling companion several questions about her experience with the demons that pursued her, but she couldn't give them much more information than they already knew.
"They just seem to have this 'join or die' attitude," she said solemnly, "And they keep calling me Ingrid for some reason."
Sam and Dean looked at each other.
"Does that name mean anything to you, Trish?" Sam asked.
"Nope. Not a thing."
Upon glancing at the girl in the rear view mirror, Sam could have sworn he saw her eyes flicker with black. He swerved his head around to face her but she just gazed back tiredly with her unmistakable ice blues. Sam turned back into his seat questioning what he had just seen. Was he starting to lose his mind as the angel of death had warned? Or were they on a road trip with a demon in the backseat?