Title: Between the Lines
Author: JenF
Chapter: 4 of 4
Disclaimer: I do not own the Winchester family, their property, their friends or their enemies. If you recognise something, it's probably not mine.
A/N: This story originally appeared as part of the Supernatural Virtual Season. Although most of the characters are original, there is an appearance by a VS character who isn't mine. If you know the VS, you'll know who I mean when we get there.
Joshua smiles as he surveys the scene in front of him. He's worked hard for this moment and he's damned if he's going to let it slip through his fingers now. Sam Winchester is exactly what he'd expected but he comes with a brother – a brother who Joshua would quite happily dispose of here and now, except for the fact Sam seems to depend on him and Joshua thinks this might come in handy if Mia's influence doesn't last.
Dean, on the other hand, grimaces as he surveys the same scene. No matter how often it happens, and it happens far too often for his liking, he will never get used to the sight of his little brother sandwiched between two goons. He'll never get used to the blank look in his eyes and he'll never get used to the feeling of guilt even when he knows there's nothing he would have done differently this time.
And doesn't that just suck? Knowing his libido blinded him to Sam's plight. Yes, he knows the argument Sam would be throwing at him right now if he could talk. He knows Sam won't let him accept all the responsibility for this one but with Dean, it's an inbuilt thing. With age comes responsibility and this situation? It's all his fault for getting sidetracked by one hell of a redhead.
As for Sam? He's smack in the middle of this scene. Somewhere in the back of his head, the bit that's still all his, the bit Mia hasn't managed to infiltrate, he knows the next half hour is going to be messy in so many different ways. He wonders if there's anything he can do about it but considering the size of the hands holding his biceps gently enough not to bruise but firmly enough to discourage any attempt at escape, he thinks he's best off biding his time.
He shakes his head just enough to dislodge his hair from his forehead, affording him the opportunity to take stock of the situation. He can see Alicia standing by some sort of altar Joshua seems to have erected in the last few hours. She's quiet and there's an aura of expectation around her. Sam wonders if anyone else can sense it. She's looking earnestly at him and his heart falters as their eyes meet and Sam's sure she's just winked at him. What the hell's that about?
If he tilts his head slightly he can just see Dean in his peripheral vision. Seems the old man isn't taking any more chances where the older hunter is concerned. Sam's seen mummies with less bindings on them than Dean right now. Joshua has had his brother hogtied and strapped to a stone pillar, a thick fabric gag in his mouth and Sam worries if his brother can breathe alright. He's still the right color so it's probably a safe bet Dean's physically okay at the moment although Sam wouldn't like to vouch for his mental state.
He racks his brain for a plan, any plan, to get them out of this but just as he accepts they're up the creek without a paddle, Joshua steps forward and suddenly Mia's back, crooning in Sam's head, irritating the hell out of him and slowly crushing his own thoughts.
"It's time," the old man states, plain and simple. Sam finds himself nodding and moving forward and somewhere he still has the autonomy to marvel at how the body can be so independent of the mind.
It's time, Sam, Mia whispers, her voice silken, oozing through his head like honey and Sam knows wherever she is, she's smiling. He also knows he should be fighting this, fighting her. He knows Dean's helpless and that he needs to help his brother. Because sooner or later he thinks he's going to need Dean to help him.
Alicia has moved forward and Sam starts to feel her hand on his arm. He snaps his head round to look at her but she's facing forwards, eyes fixed on the altar, on the book laid open there. The hunter tries to pull his arm away from her but her fingers tighten round his sleeve and he feels the now familiar warmth seeping from her hand through his skin and for a brief second it burns.
But then Mia's there again and for the first time he's vaguely grateful she is. He doesn't know what she does but Alicia flinches slightly and loosens her grip, although she doesn't release Sam completely.
She turns to look up at him and Sam registers that brilliant blue in her eyes, the shade she's shown him once before, in the barn.
"Don't do that, Sam," she tells him, no emotion in her voice. "It's not the way of the Book Keepers to harm each other."
Sam shakes his head. "I didn't do anything," he argues.
No, Mia chips in. But I did. And I'll do it again if that jumped up little bitch tries anything else.
That stops Sam in his tracks. Mia, looking out for him? That's a first. He wonders whether he should be feeling quite so good about it, but before he's even finished the thought he's repulsed by the implication. Mia's hold on him is leeching out of his skin now. She's not just in his head, controlling his actions, she's fighting free of the confines of his body.
And that's something he just can't allow.
Yes you can, Sam, she intones. In fact, you have no choice in the matter, and whatever it was she did to Alicia, she does again.
This time the girl snatches her hand away from Sam and spins to face him. Her eyes are sparking and Sam takes an involuntary step back from her, straight into the chest of one of his captors.
"I told you not to do that," she repeats but this time the emotion is there. Sam can hear hints of fury and frustration and, interestingly, fear, mingling in her voice. "It's unbecoming and not acceptable for those of us with the gift to harm one another," she asserts.
Joshua steps forward, forehead creased in thought. He stops to the side of Dean and clears his throat as though he's about to make an after dinner speech.
"Is there a problem, my dear?" he enquires, watching Sam calmly.
"I don't believe Sam has quite grasped the etiquette involved here yet," Alicia mutters, and it's the most unladylike Sam has seen her.
Joshua sighs and turns to Sam. "I really must insist the correct procedures are followed," he tells the hunter. "You must surely understand the importance of what's about to happen here?" He stops and turns to Dean with a solemn look on his face. "I think your brother would really appreciate you adhering to the ways."
Sam's blood runs cold. He doesn't like the way Joshua is studying his brother and he's not sure, but Dean's not looking too happy about this turn of events either.
Joshua raises a hand and rests it on the older hunter's shoulder and leans in to him. He puts his head close to Dean's and whispers something into his ear. Sam can't hear what's being said but he can read his brother like a book. He sees the flash of fury in his eyes, the way Dean stiffens and pulls against the restraints holding him to the pillar and he can imagine the thoughts running through his brother's head.
Joshua pats Dean patronizingly twice on the shoulder and steps back slightly, just enough for Sam to spot the glint of a silver blade in the old man's hand. "Dean and I have an understanding," Sam is told. "I think it would be best not to have to follow through on that." Joshua nods thoughtfully. "Not for my own sake, you understand," he clarifies. "But for Dean's sake."
"We're wasting time, Grandpa," Alicia pipes up, a hint of irritability creeping into her voice.
We're wasting time, Mia mimics and Sam suppresses the desire to slap her, figuratively speaking. But clearly Mia can now hear all his thoughts and her laughter echoes round his head. Oh Sammy, she giggles, you can't hurt me. I thought we'd got past that. If you want to hurt someone, try Little Miss Perfect over there. Or your brother. Whoever. Your choice.
Joshua seems to agree with his granddaughter and he steps away from Dean, casting a warning look back to the hunter. "You're right, my dear," he agrees with a smile. "It's past time really. We should gather the Keepers."
Sam watches as Joshua nods to someone behind him and he feels a swish of air from movement behind him. He takes advantage of the activity to study his brother, willing Dean to meet his eye.
But Dean is distracted by something Sam can't see and it's all the younger hunter can do not to turn around to find out what has his brother so captivated.
When Joshua leans in to Dean's personal space the hunter is irrationally grateful for the ropes and twine holding him in place, preventing him from letting loose what would probably be the most foolhardy attack ever. He can't stop the flinch when hot breath caresses the side of his face and Joshua's deceptively gentle voice floats into his ear.
"Your brother is going to get you killed," he whispers and Dean can feel the smile on the older man's lips. "And when that happens, I'm going to savor every moment. Then I'm going to do the same thing to him."
Dean catches a flash of steel beneath Joshua's pristine jacket and renews his fruitless efforts to get free. He ignores the silent, mocking laughter and the fatherly gesture of hand on shoulder.
And then Alicia breaks up the party, clearly keen to get on with the ritual, ceremony, whatever the hell it is they're doing here.
He watches the action keenly as Joshua nods to the goons behind Sam. He's painfully aware of his brother trying to make eye contact with him, but there's something going on behind that door and Dean's convinced himself Sam can take care of himself for a few more minutes, so he watches the procession of assorted characters entering through the doorway.
There are six hooded figures and if Dean wasn't so completely incapacitated he would find the whole charade clichéd to the hilt. They look like monks, he decides, with their cowl hoods hiding their faces, and from the build and gait of each one Dean deduces they're all male, all physically fit with the exception of the first one who seems to command some position of respect.
They move forward as one, halting briefly in front of Alicia to pass her an ancient tome, wordlessly accepting her nod of thanks before moving to the far side of the altar.
The girl, for her part, receives the books with an eagerness that Dean finds disturbing on many levels. But, he thinks, at least she seems to have forgotten Sam for the time being. He watches as she lovingly runs her long fingers over the cover of each volume before placing them reverentially on the altar.
Then Dean spots someone else and he curses the Winchester luck as Hayley stumbles into the room looking a little worse for wear but not overly hurt. He stiffens as she manages what Sam didn't – she makes eye contact with Dean.
Joshua laughs aloud, startling Dean, who had almost forgotten he was there.
"The lovely Hayley," he states, moving forward, raising a hand to the maid. "Please, join us. Tonight is a night that will go down in history, my dear. I would hate for you to miss it. After all, you have already played such a pivotal role here this evening," and he casts a telling glance in Dean's direction, which lets the hunter know Joshua is fully aware of how he managed to shake off the shackles last time.
"Grandpa?" Alicia asks quietly, and her confusion is almost tangible. "What's she doing here? She's not a Keeper."
Dean sees Sam try to move forward, protection instincts kicking in, and he shakes his head at his little brother, silently begging him to keep out of it. He doesn't think Hayley's in any immediate danger – Joshua's too shrewd for that. If Dean had to make an educated guess, he'd say the old man is going to use her as insurance.
Seems Joshua likes insurance policies, Dean muses. He's clearly there to keep Sam in line and it would appear Hayley is there to keep him in line.
Joshua, meanwhile, is smiling as he lets one slender arm drop round the maid's shoulders in a parody of parental concern. "Hayley is our guest, Alicia," he informs his granddaughter. "It seems she has a part to play here too," and he glances back at Dean once more.
Dean studiously ignores him and looks to Hayley, trying to offer reassurance and comfort, although it's difficult in his current condition. He thinks she understands his sentiments when she shrugs, almost apologetically, and offers the older hunter a sad smile.
"Turns out," she murmurs, "you can't help me, after all."
Dean feels like a knife has twisted in his gut with every word she speaks. She doesn't sound bitter or resentful. Just resigned, as though she has her lot in life and she's realized now that nothing is ever going to change. Dean glares at Joshua and wonders what the man has done with her son.
But Joshua has lost interest in Hayley, and Dean. He's moved over to Alicia, and Dean feels his muscles tightening in anticipation of – what? He watches as Alicia turns back to the altar and opens each book with painstaking care. She arranges them in a six pointed star and then bows her head down.
Joshua nods in satisfaction then beckons each of the six Keepers forward. Taking hold of a silver chalice from the altar he offers each man a sip of whatever is in the cup. Judging from the looks on their faces, Dean guesses it's not beer. He notes with interest that neither the old man, nor his granddaughter, partake of the beverage.
He looks to Sam but his brother is enthralled by the proceedings and doesn't spare a second look to Dean. Dean worries about this, wondering who is in control of Sam right now – his brother, or Mia?
But he can't spend long turning over that particular dilemma as Joshua lifts the chalice high in the air and steps towards his brother. He watches in horror as for the second time in one day Sam is forced to his knees, silver chalice raised to his unprotesting lips.
Dean yells out from behind his gag, threats to the Keepers, entreaties to his brother, inanities to Hayley. But all that comes out are unintelligible, muffled grunts and groans.
"Hush, Dean," Joshua berates him gently, not taking his eyes off Sam. "You're disturbing the karma."
"Grandpa," Alicia interrupts. "Time is pressing," and she holds out a stiletto which gleams in the dimness of the cellar. Dean thinks it's gold but knows that it's probably bronze, maybe brass. Either way, he doesn't like the look of it, or the way it's being offered to Joshua. It reminds Dean too much of a sacrificial lamb.
Joshua lets the chalice fall away from Sam's mouth and Dean can't see whether he's drunk anything or not. Sam's lips look dry from here and he clutches at straws where he can find them.
"You're right, my dear," Joshua agrees. "You do it. This is your destiny too," and he steps back, allowing Alicia free access to Sam, the stiletto sparkling in her hand.
Seems like you've been here before, Sammy, Mia muses somewhere in the back of Sam's head. Are you going to just sit here and take it again? 'Cause I gotta tell you, I'm getting pissed with her. She's nothing, Sam. Nothing. Take her down. Take her down now.
Sam shakes his head, tries to clear his mind, but in some unfathomable way he kind of agrees with his passenger. Alicia is getting to be annoying and no, he's not going to just sit back and take it again. After all, look what happened last time. One sip and he's merged with a half-breed demon who just won't shut the hell up.
That's not nice, Sammy. Not after I've been so good to you. Don't forget I'm here to stay and if you want to carry on with this timeshare we seem to have developed then I suggest you play ball with me, Winchester.
"Don't get too cozy," Sam mutters under his breath, quiet enough not to be heard by Alicia or Joshua. "You're not staying there."
Oh, but I think I am, Mia retorts and giggles. What d'you say we do something about this little charade? I'm thinking she's the problem. I'm thinking we should deal with her first. What do you think, Sammy?
Sam looks up at Alicia who is holding the stiletto gingerly in her neat hands. He wonders if she's ever handled a weapon before and watches, mesmerized, as her fingers trace the blade from root to sharp, shiny tip. He blinks as the knife draws blood from her thumb and then gazes, virtually hypnotized as she puts her thumb in her mouth, sucking it clean before withdrawing it seductively.
Winchester! Mia snaps, breaking the reverie Sam finds himself in.
Sam drops his eyes from the young woman in front of him and studies the feet around the altar, twelve feet of six men. The Keepers.
Feet don't talk, he thinks, but at least he knows where they all stand. And, he notes, none of them is wearing anything approaching heavy work boots. Any kicking to be done isn't likely to be fatal. Irritating, yes. Painful, probably. But fatal? Not so likely.
Startled out of his thoughts by a delicate hand under his chin, he feels his head being lifted until he can't help but meet Alicia's eyes. He's surprised to find her softened somehow, her eyes almost unfocussed but not enough to decide she's harmless. She still has that stiletto, after all.
"I'm sorry about this, Sam," she tells him gently. "But it has to be done this way. The Books are very specific."
"Yeah, I'm sure," Sam retorts, sarcastically and then wonders where that came from.
But she doesn't seem to have taken offence, just smiles at him sadly and removes her hand from his jaw. She draws her hand back, the one holding the dagger, and closes her eyes.
From behind her, the Keepers start to hum and it's one of the most disturbing noises the young hunter has ever heard. There doesn't seem to be a tune as such and no discernible words but every man is making the same noise, the same tone, the same volume at the same time. Alicia is swaying in time to the humming and the sound crescendos until Sam thinks it's going to drive him mad.
He chances a look at Dean. He doesn't really know what he hopes to achieve by it, maybe the reassurance that only an older brother can give. But when he turns his head, Dean's not looking at him and he feels an inexplicable sense of loss deep in his gut.
That's because he doesn't care, Mia taunts. And we don't have time for him now anyway. If you hadn't noticed, hunter boy, you're about to become more than entertainment here. You're about to be the sacrificial lamb. She pauses in her diatribe and Sam finds himself nodding. If I were you, I'd tell her she's got it all wrong.
"This is wrong," Sam repeats aloud. "You're doing it all wrong," and suddenly he knows Mia is right. This ritual Alicia and the Keepers are trying to complete, they're doing it all wrong and whilst nothing is going to happen to the Books if they continue, Sam may not get out of this alive.
Joshua frowns. "No," he states calmly. "You're wrong. This is what we must do. What we have been destined to do, for centuries."
Sam shakes his head and now, finally, he can feel Dean's eyes on him. He can almost reach out and touch the confusion rolling off his brother. He wishes he could have Dean by his side but right now he'll just have to take what he can get.
"No," he repeats, returning his attention to Joshua. "The Books are wrong. They always have been. It's a defense mechanism." He pauses. "I'm the Master," he states coldly, daring Joshua or Alicia to argue with him, and he's relieved to see doubt creeping into the old man's face. He presses home his advantage. "If you spill my blood," he hisses, barely recognizing himself, "the Books will burn and you will never see daylight again."
He drops back on his heels, feels Dean's frown boring into him, but he dare not look to his brother. He doesn't know why he's just said what he has. It's true, he knows that, but he can't explain how he knows. Mia is clapping silently around his head and he can feel her dancing a celebratory jig as Alicia looks to her grandfather hesitantly.
"Grandpa?" she queries, and drops the stiletto down by her side, tantalizingly close to Sam.
Once, Sam would have rather died than hurt a woman, but now? He's seen too much, heard too much, done too much for it to have quite the same implications for him anymore. Even without his little demonic passenger he knows he can't let Alicia hang on to the stiletto. She may be having doubts, but he knows from hard earned experience that a person with half a plan is far more dangerous than the person with every step mapped out in triplicate.
Her hand is swaying slightly and Sam knows this is his chance, probably his only chance. Alicia and Joshua seem to be trying to work out what to do next and the Keepers are still humming, seemingly unaware of the events unfolding in front of them.
Sam chances a look at Dean and offers his helpless brother a ghost of a smile. He hopes it's enough to convey his intentions. It certainly used to be, but then Sam didn't used to have Mia onboard. He wouldn't blame Dean if he doesn't fall into line straight away but he hopes his brother's survival instincts will kick in regardless.
He sees Dean's eyes flick over the assembled crowd before settling back on Sam, and Sam nods slightly. He can hear Mia cackling in the back of his head where she's settled down to watch the show and he tries not to let her distract him.
Sam's hand darts out and he surprises himself with the speed he latches onto her wrist. She gasps and whether it's in shock or pain Sam neither knows nor cares. Mia is jumping up and down like an excited school girl, clapping her hands in glee. Sam feels the delicate bones in Alicia's wrist grind together and the girl lets out a cry of distress, fingers uncurling from the handle of the dagger, letting it fall harmlessly to the floor.
Joshua catches on quickly. Sam has to give the old guy some credit. His mental faculties are all there. As are his reactions. He lunges forwards and downwards, reaching out for the knife, but before he's even halfway there, Sam has pulled the girl to him, wrapping his arm round her throat and wielding her like a shield.
"I wouldn't," he warns the old man and Joshua freezes. He may be many things and he may have no morals that Sam's found yet, but it seems he does have a weak spot – his granddaughter. Sam laughs at the irony. Joshua's weak spot is his family and can't Sam just relate to that? Even as he can hear Dean's frantic protests through his gag.
The humming falters briefly. At last, Mia intones from her cozy corner of Sam's head. I have to say they were beginning to drive me a little bit mad. Sam finds himself agreeing with her but he's got more important things to worry about at the moment.
Like how to get Dean free.
Like how to get Mia out of his head. Forever.
Dean can't quite believe his eyes as Sam wraps that broad, muscular forearm of his round Alicia's throat. He thinks, hopes, it's Mia's influence because the little brother he knows would never do something like this. Yet there he is, pulling the girl around like a piece of meat and not a shred of remorse showing in his face.
Dean doesn't like this version of his brother, and while he struggles fruitlessly against the ropes restraining him, he tries to make eye contact with Sam, tries to see something there to give him hope. In his head he's running through every exorcism ritual he can think of to expel Mia.
He hears the humming falter and grind to a halt. Joshua, Alicia and Sam seem to be in their own little world at the moment and it doesn't look like Sam is going to give him any help and Dean realizes he's going to have to look elsewhere for succor.
He's in luck. In the frenzy of activity it seems Hayley has been forgotten. She's hovering to the side of the altar, just behind Joshua. Dean shakes his head frantically at her, desperately trying to attract her attention. It looks like she's riveted by the scenario playing out in front of her though and Dean's going to have to try something more effective than wobbling his head around.
He wiggles his feet, scuffing the floor and making about as much noise as a church mouse. But it doesn't matter. Hayley's looking at him now and in just a couple of heartbeats she seems to understand what Dean's trying to convey to her.
He watches, heart in mouth, as the maid sidles round the back of the old man, who is far too captivated by the Sam and Alicia Show to worry about a mere serving girl. Nobody is paying any attention to her. Or Dean. So she manages to reach his side unnoticed, although Dean can see she's scared. Which he can't blame her for.
"What do I do?" she whispers in his ear, keeping an eye on proceedings all the time.
Dean waggles his eyebrows at her, wondering how long it'll take her to realize he can't tell her anything with this damned gag in his mouth. She tilts her head in confusion and Dean starts to wonder how much of an ally she's going to be after all.
But then realization dawns in her eyes and she reaches up to his face, fingers prizing the gag away from his mouth, maneuvering the cloth from his lips till it's hanging harmlessly round his neck.
He inhales deeply, relishing his newfound freedom to unimpeded breathing, stifling a cough.
"You need to get me free," he rasps quietly.
Hayley looks worried and shakes her head. "How?" she wonders. "I can't untie these. They're too tight."
"Get a knife," Dean suggests, trying not to lose patience with her, all the while keeping a close watch on his brother's situation. Which seems to have reached some sort of impasse. Joshua's not moving but then neither is Sam. Dean doesn't know if he should be concerned about that or not.
"Where from?" Hayley's asking him and it occurs to Dean she's probably asked him a couple of times already.
On reflection, it's a good question. The only knife Dean can see is the stiletto Alicia dropped to the floor, but that's smack bang in the middle of Sam's little tableau and he's not going to suggest Hayley interrupts that. Just as he's about to despair, his own weapons long gone, Hayley shifts slightly to the side. Dean follows her with his eyes as she drops to a squat, arm reaching out behind her.
Dean's impressed by the way she doesn't seem to need to search out what she's aiming for, instead keeping her gaze firmly fixed on Sam and Joshua and Alicia. She's almost professional about it and Dean finds himself reassessing her yet again.
When she straightens up she's got a triumphant smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. She moves back to Dean and turns her hand over, showing him the fragment of glass nestling in her palm.
"It's not perfect," she admits quietly, "but it might just do it."
Dean nods at her, encouragingly. "Do your best," he tells her, hoping she can get the ropes loose enough for him to break free.
He's watching the situation Sam's found himself in closely and the stalemate seems to be holding. He can't hear any words and neither Sam nor Joshua is moving. Dean's not sure what's more disconcerting – the silence or the stillness. He knows Sam, knows him better than anyone, but right now Sam's not in full control and that's what's worrying Dean. Mia's a bitch of the highest order and while Dean knows Sam in strong, he also knows what a manipulative skank she can be.
He flinches slightly as the glass Hayley's wielding slips off the rope and grazes his wrist. She mumbles an apology and carries on regardless. In a warped, Winchester type of way, Dean is grateful for the lubrication his blood is providing, oiling the movement of rope on flesh. He feels the tightness of his bindings give a little, then a little more, and if he weren't so distracted he'd be cheering the maid's efforts.
And, as he pulls his arms apart as far as he can, feeling the rope snapping one twine at a time, he thinks his impending freedom hasn't come a moment too soon as he watches Sam, dread invading his blood like ice as his brother finally makes a move.
I'm bored, Sam, Mia moans. Stop playing around and let's get this show on the road for real.
"Just shut the hell up," Sam hisses, ignoring the look he gets from the old man he's holding at arm's length. He reckons Joshua thinks he's losing the plot, hopes the old man is beginning to reconsider his plans, but the rational man inside him knows crazed megalomaniacs rarely back down.
If you'd pull your finger outta your ass, I wouldn't have to, Mia retorts, contempt spilling from her in every syllable. She's a slip of a girl and he's a decrepit old man. Or have you lost your touch, Sammy? You just gonna stand here and let them walk all over you? 'Cause, I gotta tell you, I'm disappointed in you.
"Like I give a rat's ass," Sam retorts, a little louder than he'd intended. But right now? Who cares?
Joshua moves forward slightly. A lesser man might not have noticed, but Sam's been trained to spot the missable for as long as he can remember. He tightens his grip on Alicia and she stumbles. Not much, but enough to stop the old man in his tracks.
"I wouldn't try anything," Sam warns him. "I'm not in the mood for playing games anymore." Even as he says it he wonders when he began thinking of this as a game.
It's always been a game, Mia laughs. If you can't see that, then I think it's time you sit back and let me run the show.
Sam laughs, a bitter, hollow laugh. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he snarks, ignoring the looks from not only Joshua, but the Keepers, who seem to have woken up to the fact things aren't going as planned. He ignores the way the girl in his arms tries to pull away and simply holds her a little firmer.
"Sam," she pleads. "Think about what you're doing here. The ritual…"
"The ritual is nothing," he interrupts, not caring what she's about to say. It's all a load of garbage anyway.
"But we have to finish it. If we don't finish it, we're all doomed."
Sam laughs, thinking how melodramatic her use of the word "doomed" is, how melodramatic this whole debacle has been.
"You might be doomed," he tells her, "but I've got more important things to do than be doomed by your warped sense of destiny."
He can almost feel Dean's approval and it gives him the courage to continue. He relaxes his grip on Alicia's wrist and leans down till his mouth is almost touching her ear.
"It's not nice being in this position, is it?" he whispers before straightening up and thrusting her forward, straight into Joshua.
Unprepared for an armful of granddaughter, the old man stumbles back and loses his footing. Old man and young woman tumble to the floor, a tangle of limbs and curses most unbecoming for the sort of company they have spent hours trying to pretend they're in.
From the corner of his eye, Sam can see Hayley frantically working at Dean's bonds and he's relieved his brother isn't on his own. He registers the movements of the older hunter's arms and shoulders and knows, from experience, his brother is on the verge of freedom.
Which is no bad thing because it turns out the Keepers aren't as passive as he was hoping. As one they're moving forward and Sam thinks he can take three, maybe four of them by himself but six? That's just ridiculous.
He seizes the opportunity to lunge forward and grab the stiletto lying harmlessly on the floor. Ever the hunter, he feels strengthened by the mere possession of a weapon. In the back of his head Mia is hopping from foot to foot in excitement, urging Sam on, virtually begging him to end the bitch, put her out of her misery.
Joshua is rising now, rolling Alicia off himself. He's on his knees before Sam and doesn't that just take the cake? Talk about a reversal of roles.
"You shouldn't have done that," he coldly tells Sam, apparently oblivious to his inferior position in this exchange. "Your brother won't thank you for it."
"Actually," Dean smiles from his position just behind the old man, "his brother thinks it's the best thing he's done today. Good move, Sammy."
With a swiftness and skill ingrained in him over the years, Dean flips the old man on his back, hand darting into his jacket and extricating a steel blade.
And finally Sam allows himself to relax, just slightly, before turning his own attention to the Keepers.
Dean's surprised by the strength he feels in the old man as he takes him down. As he grabs for the knife he spotted earlier, Joshua puts up more of a fight than Dean was expecting and while he still has the upper hand and he's made it look effortless, the effects of having spent most of the day bound up or hung up somewhere are showing.
Joshua obviously seems to think so too. He may be on the floor but he's leering up at Dean in a way that makes the hunter uncomfortable in oh so many ways. But really Dean shouldn't be worrying about Joshua's facial expressions. What he should be looking for, he thinks later, is the gnarled old hand that snakes to his ankle, wrapping round it with an iron grip and pulling him to the floor with a crash.
Dean curses and scrambles backwards, his hold on the blade as firm as ever. But Joshua's on his feet faster than Dean would give him credit for and with one swift kick the blade goes skidding out of his numbed fingers as his elbow seizes up from the impact with Joshua's elegantly booted foot. He can't help a gasp of pain as he rolls to the side, hoping to reclaim his advantage.
Somewhere, sometime, Joshua must have had some sort of training, Dean muses. Military, martial arts, whatever. It's paying off for the old guy now as he throws himself at the younger man, forcing Dean onto his back, landing two swift punches to the hunter's abdomen
Dean tries to curl in on himself but Joshua's kneeling over him, pinning him to the ground. As the old man's face comes into Dean's line of vision, he's smiling.
"I told you your brother was going to kill you," he smirks. "I just didn't think I'd enjoy it quite this much. It's been a long time since I've killed a man, Dean, but I guess it's a skill you never forget."
Dean sighs as best he can before pulling an arm back and letting it fly into the old man's face, wincing as his knuckles connect with an aged cheekbone. It does the trick though. Joshua loosens his grip on Dean as his head flies backward.
Dean flings an arm out, trying once again to get to the blade, vaguely aware of some sort of scuffle going on in the background, probably involving Sam, and he thinks he really needs to get rid of Joshua so he can go help his little brother.
Just as his fingertips brush the handle of the steel blade, Joshua is on him again and this time he's armed. Dean doesn't know where the second blade has come from, he wonders vaguely if Joshua's jacket is like Mary Poppins' carpet bag. But it's not the most pressing issue Dean has right now as the old man swipes his own blade at Dean, cutting cleanly through the fabric of the hunter's jeans, grazing his calf enough to sting but not enough to penetrate the skin.
Dean makes one last desperate lunge for the knife by his hand, inexplicably happy when his fingers curl tightly round the handle. Kicking out at Joshua, he gains his feet, stumbling only slightly when the knife wound reminds him it's there. Spinning round to face his adversary, Dean can see Sam holding his own against the Keepers.
Pacing himself now, convinced he's back on a level playing field, he raises his eyes to Joshua.
"Not that easy, douchebag," he taunts, carelessly tossing the knife from hand to hand. "And you're right. You never do forget how to kill."
He manages to make it sound like a threat even though it's a statement of fact, and he relishes the look of uncertainty that crosses Joshua's face. But then the uncertainty is replaced by a mask of satisfaction as Joshua stops moving and looks beyond the hunter.
"Did I say a man?" he queries. "Of course, it's not been that long since I killed a woman."
Knowing better, but unable to stop himself, Dean glances over his shoulder to where he last saw Hayley. She's still there but now she's not alone. One of the Keepers has joined her and is standing quietly behind her, one hand wrapped round her throat, the other clamped securely over her mouth.
"Hayley!" Dean exclaims and takes one step toward her, determined to extinguish the threat to her in preference to his own safety. But one step is all he gets as Joshua flips the blade in his hand and brings the handle down on the side of Dean's head with a force strong enough to knock the hunter to the ground. What the heavy weapon has started, Joshua finishes with a brutal swing of his leg, boot crashing into Dean's skull with enough force to destroy the hunter's tenuous grip on consciousness.
Sam watches in dismay as Joshua launches his attack on Dean but Sam's been around long enough to know not to worry too much just yet. That and Mia's constant nag, nag, nag which, quite frankly, is beginning to drive him round the bend. If she was here, in front of him, he could quite happily wring her neck like a chicken.
Oh Sammy, she mocks, just when we were getting along so well. Dean's none of our concern. Let him play with the senile old fool while the grownups get down to business. She pauses, whether it's for effect or not Sam neither knows nor cares. It's time to end this, Winchester. Time to claim what's rightfully mine.
And Sam finds himself moving to the altar, stepping over Alicia who is still prone on the floor, eyes darting left to right and back again as though she's unable to comprehend what's going on. He feels nothing for her but contempt. Which is unlike him. It's not like she asked to be raised in this warped family, and ordinarily Sam might feel some sort of compassion for the girl.
But she's forgotten soon enough as the Keepers move together, as one body, to form a human barrier between him and the books they have spent so long guarding. Although the humming has ceased, they seem to be attuned to each other in some bizarre fashion.
Sam stops in front of the shield and cocks his head to one side. The Keepers watch him studiously, not moving, not even blinking and Sam thinks that's just plain creepy. None of them looks as though they'll give Sam much trouble but Sam's not in full control and he knows even at the best of times not to underestimate people. Because that's all the Keepers are really. Just people.
A rustle of fabric from behind him momentarily distracts him from the Keepers and he risks a sideways glance over his shoulder. Alicia is rising to her feet. Sam can feel Mia jumping up and down in his head but he's managing to keep her at bay with a few mental tricks he's picked up along the way. He knows he's pissing her off and he's quite enjoying the moment in some perverse way.
He watches Alicia as she gains her feet, never failing to look like a product of some Swiss finishing school. She flicks her hair back and gives Sam a cold glare.
"You shouldn't mess with this, Sam," she tells him through a petty frown, and she moves forward till she's alongside him.
He's on full alert for any move she might make but she does nothing other than turn to the Keepers.
"This must be done," she says and Sam's not sure whether she talking to him, herself or the human wall in front of them.
But as the Keepers step forward as one, Sam decides she holds more sway with them than he'd realized. Suddenly Mia and Alicia are the least of his problems.
Hefting the stiletto in his hand, Sam wonders how much damage he can do with one sweep of his arm. Holding it out before him, he waves it experimentally in a wide arc. The Keepers stop in their advance and he takes the advantage to press them back a little.
The upper hand doesn't stay with him for long though. The line of men breaks up into two factions, divided somehow by height, and Sam somehow finds the time to wonder if this is deliberate or just coincidental. He doesn't worry about it too long though as three men melt away, off to the side where Sam finds it hard to watch all of them at the same time.
And as they peel away, the remaining three step forward and Sam's damned if that isn't a smile on their faces.
Of course it's a smile, you fool, Mia hisses. They're about to rip you limb from limb. What? You thought they were just there to provide some musical accompaniment? Stop blocking me and I can wipe them out with one click of my fingers.
"Nice try, bitch," Sam counters. "I've got you just where I want you," and he breaks off his apparent monologue to dodge the first fist that comes flying at him. It's ridiculously easy to fend off the blow but Sam quickly realizes his problem is going to be quantity, not quality as a second blow catches him unawares in the small of his back.
He staggers slightly and whirls round, dagger held out at arm's length in the hope of damaging one of them on the way round. The Keepers have moved forward and are surrounding him and Sam briefly entertains the prospect of letting Mia help out a little. But then he remembers how deals with demons go and almost laughs at his own idea.
Not that stupid, Sam, she coos at him. This could be over by now and we could be on our way if you'd just stop being so pigheaded.
He shakes his head and waves the stiletto around again just for good measure. The Keepers have halted in their tracks and for a minute Sam wonders if they're about to start humming again. But they don't. They simply stop, motionless save for a head tilt to the left which baffles Sam.
Then he hears someone chanting and he spots Alicia by the altar, the central book in her hands. She's reading from the pages, bringing Berengar back into the world. Her voice rises, louder and louder and then Mia's screaming in Sam's head. Unintelligible and high pitched, Sam can't understand a word of what she's saying.
The Keepers drop to their knees, heads bowed, and one by one they raise their hands to their ears as if trying to block the sound of her chanting.
"What are you doing?" Sam shouts. Whatever she's up to it can't be good news if it has the power to bring grown men to their knees and drive a half-demon skank crazy.
But Alicia doesn't stop. She just looks at Sam and smiles beatifically. Mia shrieks and Sam can't help but groan in pain as her voice shatters the walls of his psyche. He can see Dean struggling with Joshua, can see the Keepers sinking even lower to the ground and he can see Alicia closing her eyes as she presumably reaches the climax of whatever ritual she thinks she performing.
And suddenly Sam knows she can't be allowed to finish it. The ramifications don't bear thinking about and his own wellbeing doesn't seem such a grand price to pay if it means keeping Berengar where he truly belongs.
Ignoring the bitch bouncing around his skull he launches himself across the space separating him from Alicia, and in one swift movement, wrenches the book out of her hands. She gives a girly scream of protest and vainly tries to regain her prize. But Sam is stronger and faster and, if truth be told, more experienced in these matters, and he simply fixes her with a stare, daring her to take another step forward.
Clearly not willing to give up just yet, she laughs bitterly. "It's too late. It's started."
But not finished, you stupid, stupid child, Mia screams inside Sam's head. She has to finish it. Now. Before it's too late.
And with those final words, Sam knows what Mia's so afraid of. As the Keepers crash to the ground like a stack of dominoes, he realizes that if Alicia is prevented from finishing the ritual, the hold Mia has on whatever sort of reality she exists in is gone, the Keepers will be simply harmless old men who have wasted their lives on a pointless crusade.
Looking pointedly at Alicia, Sam takes the book in one hand and sweeps her to one side with the other. Pushing through the cacophony that currently is his resident psycho, he leans over to the altar, grasping one of the ornate candles from its holder. He lets the flame lick the pages of the book, ignoring Alicia's protestations, keeping her at arm's length with the stiletto, waiting patiently while the fire takes hold.
As the pages succumb to the flames, he feels Mia burning inside him, feels her twisting and turning, feels the blackness of her floating away in plumes of agony. And as the flames reach his fingers, forcing him to finally drop what's left of the tome, she disappears in a puff of darkness, to be replaced by lightness and a restoration of freewill.
The sudden silence is almost mesmerizing and Sam feels it wrap around him like a soft blanket on a winter's night. Yet something's not right. He can hear Alicia sobbing at his feet, he can hear the Keepers moaning softly as they regain their bearings and he can hear Hayley's cries as she takes in the scene and the fallen Keeper by her side.
But he can't hear fighting. He can't hear the sounds of Dean gloating over his adversary, the witty sarcasm he usually flings at those he's just defeated. In fact, now that he thinks of it, he can't hear Dean at all.
He spins round to where he last saw his brother locked in combat with Joshua and his heart falls to the pit of his stomach like a leaden balloon. Dean is on the ground, blood spilling from the side of his head and Joshua's foot is swinging back, ready to make the final move in the little dance he is performing with Dean.
Sam knows irrevocably he won't reach the old man before the damage to his brother is done, but he can do something.
"Joshua!" he shouts, just as the man connects with Dean's head and Sam knows whatever happens next, his brother is going to be useless to him. But he's strangely calm. Fate has taken over and while Sam believes he is truly in control of his destiny, the next few minutes can only go one way and he – Sam Winchester – is the one pulling the strings.
The old man jumps, apparently unaware how far off the rails his plan has gone, and turns to face Sam, steel blade out. He scans the room and, decision clearly made, he lunges for Sam, knife at chest height.
Sam nods briefly. He was expecting this and before Joshua has taken more than two steps, he's let the stiletto fly out of his hand with deadly accuracy.
Joshua looks surprised as he watches the crimson stain on his shirt spread slowly outwards. He stumbles slightly and drops to one knee, hand clutching his chest, mouth dropping open. It's as if there are words in there, trying to get out, but the life ebbing from his body, the effort appears to be too much for the old man. His final act is to lift his head and meet Sam's eyes before the light goes out and he slumps forward, lifeless, on to the stone floor.
Dean eyes Sam from across the motel room. His brother has been quiet and broody since they left Hastings and it's beginning to bother him. For the first day or two Sam fobbed him off by telling him he was fine and that Dean should be resting, that head injuries take a while to heal.
It's been three days now though and Dean's had enough.
"Sam," he starts, "It wasn't…"
"If you're going to say it wasn't my fault, I know," Sam interrupts.
Dean shakes his head. "No," he replies. "No, that's not what I was going to say but if that's what's bothering you then, no, it wasn't your fault." He pauses. "If anything, it was my fault."
Sam snorts. "How d'you work that one out?" he queries, genuine confusion on his face.
"Well," Dean muses, "if it hadn't been for that redhead, none of this would have happened."
"Yes it would," Sam argues. "If if hadn't been her, they'd have found another way. And, by the way, they drugged you. No way it was your fault." He gets up from the table he's sitting at, stalks over to the window, looking out over yet another desolate parking lot.
Dean sighs. "Okay," he concedes. "But if it wasn't my fault, it wasn't yours either. Joshua was a crazy dude and sometimes the only way is…" He trails off, but they both hear the sometimes you have to kill people even though neither of them is going to say it aloud.
Sam shrugs. "I know," he agrees, softly. "I just wish there'd been another way."
Dean stands up and stretches his arms out. This moment has lasted long enough for him. "Look on the bright side," he announces brightly. "Mia's finally bitten the dust, Hayley got her son back, the Keepers get their lives back and Alicia's going to get some much needed help." He grabs his jacket off the bed and his wallet off the nightstand.
"I think we did alright, Sam."