Hightop Motel,
Little Rock, ARKANSAS.
"Even if she isn't this Devoratus, it sounds like, for pretty damned sure, that she's possessed, and that means she's a demon!" Bobby warned the brothers.
They had explained their latest information to the seasoned hunter. It seemed, at the moment Elise Dodd was their only lead. Both the Winchester brothers were confident she was a demon, possibly even Devoratus himself… or herself.
"Isn't that exactly why we have to find her?" Dean exclaimed.
"That's exactly why you have to be careful!" Bobby snapped at Dean. He'd certainly healed well enough, surprisingly well - physically. With less than two weeks having expired after the elder Winchester's tangle with Kalfu, the Hell Hounds and Hell itself, Dean's physical condition had improved at the rate of knots. Even so, Bobby was still hesitant at the suggestion they search for Elise, or more precisely, a demon. Fred had removed Dean's sutures, and with flesh and muscle well trained in healing, Dean was almost given a clean bill of health. 'Quite miraculous' Fred had commented at how well Dean's wounds had healed. His busted collar bone hardly hindered him at all, and although his leg still bothered him, Dean had now ceased to use the cane. But even Bobby knew that didn't mean he was up to tracking down a potentially brutal and savage demon or two... There was still something a bit off with the hunter.
It was almost unnerving that Dean's demeanor had definitely improved. His irritations and frustrations were now focused on the demon instead and apparently in his determination to exterminate their latest foe. In fact Bobby was now concerned Dean had taken far too much interest in tracking down their latest quarry. But then even Bobby relished the challenges of a new hunt. Both Sam and Bobby were undeniably pleased by Dean's zealous eagerness to track down the demon responsible for the murders.
Dean frowned with his usual distain of late. He certainly has issues with being undermined. Bobby knew that he was still caught up in his pseudo-fatherly, protector mode, which, considering what Dean had been through, considering what they had all endured just a couple of weeks ago, he thought it was reasonable… and then conceded that perhaps he was being a smidge 'over-protective' at that.
"You can't just go charging in… you'd better take these…" Bobby offered them a couple of small leather pouches.
"What are they?" Sam queried. "Ruby's Hex bags?"
"Yeah…" Bobby smiled. "If they're the real deal, and I think they might be, hopefully they'll cloak your presence from this Devoratus. Give you a chance to sneak up on him, or her."
"Thanks Bobby." Sam smiled, passing Dean one of the bags. Dean raised a doubtful eyebrow, and grumbled something along the lines of 'damned witch-whore… conniving bitch… cheap, parlor tricks…' under his breath, however resolved, none-the-less, to tuck the protection bag into one of his jacket pockets.
"And… you'd better take the Colt." Bobby urged, retrieving the prized weapon from the depths of his weapon's bag.
"Yeah, we'll definitely need it..." Sam acknowledged.
Bobby dove straight back into his weapon's bag, however his demeanor swiftly soured. "Damn it!" Bobby cursed, as he rummaged further into the depths of his duffle, in search of more ammunition for the Colt. "I gotta start smelting down some more silverware!" He sighed when he came up empty handed. "You boys've been going through ammo like the damned thing was a machinegun!"
"Actually I think that was Ruby..." Sam muttered. He briefly lamented their unlikely ally, it was the first time he'd pondered her fate since picking up the Demon's trail. When the Crossroad Demon's Hell Hounds had come for Dean, she was the only one who could see the beasts, aside from Dean, that was. With Dean injured they'd all relied on her to exterminate the dogs of Hell, and there had been many. And the Colt had reliably brought them and eventually even Kalfu down as well. Ruby's plan to save Dean had worked. Although with every passing day, with no word from the demoness, the more Sam concluded she had sacrificed herself, in an attempt to fulfill her promise to save Dean. Sam's anguish was plain to see, even if only briefly.
"She knew what she was getting herself into." Bobby consoled.
"Damned witch-whore got what she deserved!" Dean snapped angrily, apparently he never could bring himself to trust a demon, not even Ruby who had apparently done nothing but try and help him.
Sam glared at Dean's ungrateful remark. "You know what…" He began to retort with an angry rebuttal brewing, his fists clenching in resentment.
"Yeah! We have more important things at hand!" Bobby snapped at the brothers angrily, boldly stepping between the two before fists started flying. "Like a murdering demon, hell, maybe even a number of 'em!"
Sam and Dean glared at each other briefly, however tensions remained strained.
"Boys!" Bobby demanded their attentions. "I think we need to focus here!"
Sam caved first, sucking back his annoyance with his brother, again. It seamed it was all he did lately; forgive Dean his conceited, arrogant, self-satisfying ways. He nodded his head, as his attention shifted back to Bobby.
"All I got is one bullet left!" Bobby stated, hoping to get the Winchesters to refocus on the task at hand. "I gotta tell you I'm not real keen on lettin' you boys go after this demon… these demons even… without some kinda protection!"
"Only need one bullet!" Dean sneered.
As much as Sam knew he was correct, it just didn't seem right. Not after all they'd been through; after all they'd risked; to have it balance on one bullet. Dean had been damned lucky to have killed Azazel with just one bullet left… and he still wasn't sure just how he, himself, had managed to kill Kalfu with the same.
"Yeah, only there may be more than one demon…" Sam rebuked with measured spitefulness at Dean's expense. Besides, luck just wasn't something that generally stood on the side of the Winchesters, and pushing it once more… Then he suddenly realized. "Actually… I think I've still got extra shells in my jacket pocket…" he muttered.
Sam's hunter instincts prevailed. He rummaged in his duffle until he found what he was looking for; his jacket in question. It was still blood stained, with Dean's blood, and his, from the night when Kalfu had almost killed Dean. He'd shoved it so deep into the depths of his duffle he'd completely forgotten about it. He should really have tossed it already, what with all the rips and tears from the shattered stained-glass window, and the rock salt blast, it was hardly worth the effort of trying to clean it. Sam lamented briefly on the loss of another article of clothing, and then set about retrieving the remaining bullets for the Colt. He surprised even himself when instead of pulling out Bobby's specially cast and engraved silver bullets, he found Dean's amulet and ring. When Dean had disappeared - took off to die - he'd left them behind, for Sam to keep. And Sam had kept them, in his jacket pocket, but just for safe keeping; close to his heart – although, right now, he'd never admit that aloud.
"Shit…" Sam remarked. "I'm surprised you haven't asked about these yet." Sam turned slowly to apologize to Dean for having forgotten about his brother's prized items.
"What?" Dean queried. "What is it?"
Sam held out his hand and presented Dean with his belongings. Dean gazed at his ring and amulet with a look of mystification. "What… Umm…" Dean muttered.
"You left them… back in Dodge… remember?" Sam explained, finding his brother's confusion the perfect antidote to their previous tension. More and more Dean was revealing small black holes in his memory. Sam consoled himself with Fred's reassurances that it was common with a head injury, and more than likely Dean's memory would eventually return, hopefully intact. Not having suffered any other symptoms or ailments, Fred reassured both Sam and Bobby, Dean's apparent selective amnesia could also be psychosomatic. Even so, with his physical injuries having mended so well, Sam had to remind himself that Dean still wasn't fully healed. He was amazed with just what Dean would black out. Not that they'd spent much time reminiscing; in fact both Sam and Bobby had avoided it, because Dean quickly became agitated every time his memory loss was made evident. Mostly it was just little things, and some rather major memories… names, places, and usually incidents involving their past. Obviously Dean's subconscious was hiding from their lives and anything to do with their supernatural activities, and the amnesia wasn't quite prepared to release its captive bag of past memories, just yet. Although Sam had to admit Dean wasn't always the most reliable means of recall at the best of times. But forgetting about his amulet and ring, that was a five-star doozie!
Dean cautiously took the items from Sam and inspected them. It took a while before he actually looped his amulet over his head. However he had to study each finger before finding the pale indentation on the ring's rightful digit.
Both Bobby and Sam mused on Dean's unusual behavior. But when Dean spied their dazed expressions he immediately cast them a glare of distain. Bobby jumped into avoidance mode, distracting all concerned with the task at hand. They hadn't time for Dean to perform an encore performance of his Mr. Hyde act...
"You find those shells, Sam?" He queried quickly.
Sam hopped into action, shoving his hand into the remaining jacket pockets until he withdrew a half-dozen, or so, of Bobby's specially cast, blessed and charmed silver cartridges. "Yeah…" he muttered.
Bobby half smiled with relief as he offered the demon-slaying pistol to Sam, now fully loaded, together with the few remaining shells that remained. Sam nodded to Bobby, and thankfully shoved the Colt into his waistband. It was a subliminal message on Bobby's part, to Sam, that he should take the reigns on this job, and play protector over Dean. And thankfully the inference had gone unnoticed by Dean, usually the one who automatically assumed the role of leader in their hunts.
oooOOOooo
Elise Dodd's Apartment,
Little Rock, ARKANSAS.
"Here!" The elder Winchester exclaimed as the brothers cruised down East Grand Boulevard.
"Actually, it's the next building…" Sam replied as he continued past the white-washed apartment building.
"No!" Dean urged. "Down here!" He pointed to a narrow alley that ran between the two buildings. He peered out of the car at the neat row of windows on the second story of the 125 East Grand Boulevard Apartments.
Even before Sam parked the Impala he had taken note of Dean's impatience. The elder Winchester was out of the car before the engine had time to wind down, and headed off in a decent jog. For a guy, who only a week ago hobbled around like a cripple, Dean moved remarkably well, his limp only just noticeable. He made straight for a side entrance, most likely only ever used by maintenance and, if ever, by a few residents.
Dean found the heavy, reinforced door securely locked, and seemed almost intent on shouldering it open with brute force. Sam stopped him before he had a chance to reinjure himself. "How about I just pick the lock?" He suggested.
"Oh?" Dean muttered. "Ok."
"Bobby'd have our hides if you go and bust something again!" Sam snarked, tapping Dean aside as he checked the door for himself. "And I don't mean the door…"
"What? I'm fine!" He retorted in his own defense. Dean moved aside and watched Sam demonstrate his craft.
"Course you are… But this door isn't about to budge, no matter how hard to hit it! So, tell me Dean, what the hell were you trying to do?" Sam queried as he set about picking the lock.
"What?" Dean replied.
"Trying to prove something?" He smiled victoriously as the lock released. "Like that you're invincible or something? Some kinda superman?" Sam opened the door with an exaggerated flourish. "You climbed outta Hell, so now you can do anything?"
"What?" Dean glared at him, without a further response. He frowned at Sam then swiftly pushed past him as he moved through the door. Sam shook his head in mock defeat. The old Dean would have taken the jibe for what it was; a low blow, admittedly, but nothing more than a ribbing, certainly nothing warranting more than one of Dean's arrogant, conceited retorts in agreement with Sam's rash statement. But then their sibling rivalry, it would seem, had been exterminated.
Sam followed his brother into the building. The door way led to a dimly lit corridor, crowded with a row of trash cans, boxes, a couple of bicycles and a mop and bucket.
"Ok… let me have it." Dean demanded when he turned back towards Sam.
"What?" Sam queried.
"The Colt." Dean insisted. "Let me have it."
"Umm… I don't think so." Sam began to object, Dean still wasn't 100 percent, and he figured it was probably safer if he held on to it himself. Although it was almost a relief that he'd asked for it; the old Dean would never have let Bobby give it to Sam in the first place.
Dean almost stomped with irritation. "Just give it to me!" He snapped angrily.
"You sure?" Sam queried, turning his head only slightly to gaze at his brother. Still snappy after his 'invincible' jibe, Sam suspected.
"Yeah! Now give it to me!" Dean demanded with his hand out stretched.
"Ok…" Sam conceded. Even he had to admit, Dean generally was the better shot. For all intense purposes, he seemed just fine physically, so really there was no reason not to. And Dean always took the lead, it was logical he'd want to now…
Dean ran his fingers over the exquisite workmanship. It was as if it was the first time he'd ever laid eyes on the revolver. Even as he caressed the weapon in his hands he could feel its power. It was cold and hard in his grasp, and yet it sent a slight electrical, tingling sensation searing through his fingers. It truly was a magnificent piece of craftsmanship.
"You comin'?" Sam demanded as he moved down the corridor. Dean was momentarily mesmerized. He nodded and followed close behind.
As the brothers moved further into the corridor they reached a small alcove. Dean moved from Sam's side and began to leap up a gloomy, confined stairwell, so narrow the brothers had to ascend in single file. Dean carried himself up the flight of stairs swiftly; in fact he almost raced up them in his eagerness. Sam had to up his own pace simply to keep up with him. Elise's apartment was on the second floor.
"Wait…" Sam warned when he caught up to him at the top of a small landing. "We can't just go charging in there!"
"Why not?" Dean queried eagerly.
"You forget that she's probably possessed? Like, she's a demon?" Sam exclaimed, a little perturbed by Dean's casual attitude.
"Yeah… isn't that exactly why we have the Colt?" Dean demanded.
"Even so, she shares her apartment with other girls!" Sam replied. "And we don't know for sure if they're possessed as well… or innocent bystanders!"
"One way to find out!" Dean swaggered off.
"Dean… you're not invincible!" Sam stalked after him.
Elise's apartment lay at the end of a long passageway. When a number of hysterical, if abrupt, screams erupted from the same vicinity Sam and Dean sprang into action. They were still some distance away, and Dean sped past Sam in his eagerness, almost shoving the younger to the ground as he bruised past him.
Dean made fast ground to the apartment, his limp certainly hadn't slowed him down any. He paused and glanced back at Sam with a mischievous smirk. Sam was aghast and completely unable to prevent Dean from hastily kicking the door in. The elder Winchester splintered the door jam, and cracked the door nearly clean in two as he broke in. He burst into the apartment, with the Colt at the ready.
"Damn it Dean!" Sam scolded as he leapt through the open doorway after him, half expecting Dean to be at the demon's mercy. Instead he was greeted with a horrific scene.
Two young women lay on the ground, in the middle of the small living area, their chests ripped open. Their deaths had been swift, if their dazed, open eyes were any measure. One would have expected far more blood, had their hearts not been ripped out, and unable to pump the vital fluid from their bodies. Sam paused briefly at the sight, in horrified awe of the gore and savagery of the murders. They had not been cremated, so Sam could only assume they were entirely human.
"Dean?" He suddenly realized his brother wasn't there. Sam sprang from one room to the next as he searched the apartment, until he came to one of the bedrooms. The window was open, leading out to the fire escape.
"Shit!" he exclaimed angrily as he poked his head out through the curtains. Dean was almost already down the last ladder to the ground.
"Get the car!" Dean yelled as he pointed further down the alley.
Sam peered to where Dean had indicated, although he saw nothing. His first instincts were to pounce to Dean's side, only he trusted Dean that they'd need the car to take chase. He sped out of the apartment, ploughing through a number of horrified residents in his haste.
"Somebody call 911!" He advised as he shuffled past the dismayed onlookers, most of who looked like other college students. He was eager to escape before anyone thought to hold him accountable…
He flew back down the stairs, leaping down by three's and fours. His heart hardly had time to take a beat before he had thrown himself into the Impala and forced the key into her ignition.
The faithful Chevy leapt into life as Sam tore through the alley towards the fire escape. He almost side-swiped Dean as he sprinted in front of him, further down the alley, in his hasty 'futile on foot' pursuit, of the demon. Sam barely even stopped the car, as Dean leapt into the passenger seat. The wheels burnt rubber as he accelerated towards a connecting lane way.
"Down there!" Dean shouted as he slammed the door closed hastily. "Right!"
Sam hung on the steering wheel as they careened around the sharp bend, tossing both brothers into each other, and across the seat.
"Where the hell are we going?" Sam demanded, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"After Devoratus." Dean retorted.
"Great! Just what the hell were you thinking?" Sam demanded.
"Faster!" Dean ordered in reply, as they exploded out of the alley and hooked a right onto the main street. "Unless you wanna loose him! Why you so interested in what I'm thinking lately?"
"You coulda got yourself killed!" Sam reprimanded as he accelerated.
"Never even close!" Dean snapped back in his own defense. "Right!" He suddenly bellowed as he practically leaned out of the car in his impatience.
"The hell you weren't!" Sam refuted angrily. He was piloting blind, his total faith in Dean as navigator.
"FASTER! Damn it!" Dean urged. "Those Hex bags actually seem to work… He didn't even see me!" He informed him.
"Where now?" Sam demanded as they came to a crossroad. "Hang on… He?" He queried almost braking to a stop.
"Huh?" Dean frowned. "Don't stop! That way!" Dean pointed to his left.
"You said 'He'!" Sam clarified.
"Yeah Devoratus, he took the girl. Left, that way!" Dean pointed across Sam's line of sight. "Quick, down there!"
"Where?" Sam demanded. "Do you even know where, the hell, we are we going?"
"He must be taking her to Drawly." Dean replied, his eyes scouring the road for their next turn.
"How do you know? I can't even see who we're chasing!" Sam objected.
"He's there…" Dean scowled with irritation at Sam's constant, demeaning objections and demands.
"So what, we're gonna search each and every warehouse?" Sam demanded in awe, because as far as he could tell they were as good as chasing a ghost. He hadn't even caught a glimpse of the demon.
"If you got any better ideas, by all means…" Dean tilted his head in demand. "But this may be our only chance to find Devoratus…"
"Fine!" Sam sighed as he took another bend in the road. "If Bobby ever finds out…"
"Who even gives a shit? Damned over-protective, old nurse-maid!" Dean muttered in irritation. "I can look after myself… can't you?"
"Dean he just…" Sam muttered.
"Right!" Dean yelled at him, almost yanking the wheel from Sam's hands in his eagerness. "Down there!"
Sam hoped Dean's constant, abrupt and rapid directions were indeed correct, because he had no idea where they were heading, or who, or what they were following, if anything at all. However, it wasn't long before Sam realized they had entered the Drawly warehouse district and he knew somehow Dean had got it right. With the distinct lack of traffic in the area, they scoured the silent warehouses for any signs of Devoratus.
"There!" Dean snapped as they passed by another abandoned factory, this one a little more decrepit than the last. However it was barely differentiable from the last, or the next; they all began to look the same.
"Where?" Sam queried, dumbfounded.
"Back there!" Dean urged. "The blue door…"
Sam frowned at Dean suddenly. "You sure?"
"Yeah… absolutely." Dean gazed back at Sam with was steely confidence, challenging Sam to query him again.
Sam attempted to examine the dilapidated building that Dean had indicated; 'Hank and Forder Plastics' according to a ramshackle sign above the equally neglected entry door. Sam slowed the Impala down and pulled into an alcove a few buildings down.
Dean alighted the car before Sam had a chance to query his assumption any further.
"You wanna take a moment before you go running in half cocked again?" He snapped at his brother grabbing Dean's arm before he could make a swift beeline towards the warehouse.
"What?" He snapped back at Sam with clear irritation, shaking his limb free from Sam's grasp.
"Well I'm gonna at least grab a few things, might come in handy…" Sam retorted as he opened the car boot. He reached for his shotgun, and a handful of rock salt cartridges, as he loaded up on weapons from the Impala's secret boot-compartment. With their hasty pursuit a number of their weapons had been dislodged from their rightful place, and now lay in a disorderly heap to one side of the boot. He had to rummage through the disarray in search of a bottle of holy water and his journal. He figured he'd need the exorcism ritual for this one...
Dean seemed in awe of the trunk's contents, or the mess…
"You still got your Hex bag?" Sam queried as he tapped his own pocket to confirm his remained secure.
"Yeah…" Dean nodded, pulling the top of the bag from his jacket pocket as proof.
"Good… You want anything else?" Sam asked him.
"No. I'm good to go." Dean replied with a confident smirk. "You gonna read to him?" He jibed Sam, nodding at his journal.
"Funny… What makes you so sure she… he's here?" Sam queried again as he softly closed the boot. "You got Demon ESP now or something?"
"What?" Dean snarked. "You doubting me again, Sam?"
"I just want to know… What makes you think they're here?" Sam demanded, arms crossed and a little irritated by the return of Dean's arrogant demeanor. He wasn't barging in anywhere without a few answers.
Dean frowned at Sam at first, but eventually he gave him an answer. "Blood on the door…" Dean quipped as he strode away.
Sam spun around and squinted at the building in an attempt to view the evidence himself, however it was beyond his ability to see that far away. At least until they crept closer. Dean had been right; there was blood on the door. There was a bloody, smeared hand print, just above the lock. Dean dabbed at the fresh blood, rubbing it between his fingers. "Demon ESP…" He muttered at Sam as he smirked victoriously.
"You think she… he knows we followed him?" Sam queried, avoiding the praise Dean obviously expected. Sam paused to run his fingers over the door jam, a little more attentive to his surroundings when his fingers came away tainted with yellow dust.
"Don't know." Dean commented, opening the door without resistance. The demon had practically ripped the lock off already.
"Let's hope not." Sam nodded hopefully. Surprise might be their only advantage. "You got the Colt?"
"Right here." Dean tapped the small of his back, where the pistol was securely secreted down his waist band.
The brothers moved into the darkness of an abandoned foyer. It was small, but economical, once painted in a similar sky blue shade as the door itself. The reception desk was barren, save a thick coating of dust. There was only one way to go from there, a solitary door behind the desk.
Dean approached boldly, without hesitation.
"Dean!" Sam whispered in caution as he followed, scouring the corridor they were steadily moving down. "The demon could be anywhere." A number of doors lead off the hallway, presumably to offices and store rooms.
"Huh?" Dean stammered, and then contemplated Sam's warning. "Oh, yeah." He nodded. He raised the Colt reassuringly. "We gotta sneak up like some coward?"
"No, but we can't be too careful…" Sam muttered as he scoured their surroundings for any signs they were not alone.
Their apprehensions were heightened by a sudden roar and noisy drumming of heavy rain on the tin roof. Outside dark storm clouds moved over the city once more, and lightning lit the dimming skies, as thunder rolled swiftly in afterwards. The sudden, abrupt flashes of light lit their surroundings, as Sam planned their tactical reconnaissance of the factory. He motioned towards the large double doors at the end of the corridor. He speculated it would lead them to the factory floor, or warehouse, or wherever the demon may have taken Elise.
Dean paused and tilted his head, seemingly unconvinced. Then he took off through a door to his left, leading down another hallway.
Sam glanced down the corridor Dean had suddenly headed down. "Hey, where are you going? I think we should go down…" He whispered as loudly as he dared, much of his demand swallowed up by the noise of the down pour outside.
Dean ignored Sam's query, merely holding his hand up in a 'stop' gesture.
"Hey, I was just saying!" Sam retorted quietly.
"Shhhh…" Dean ordered somewhat more forcibly.
Dean came to a halt and listened again.
"What?" Sam snapped at him, as he followed his brother's steady gait, a little irritated by Dean's conceited discontinuance. As if their possible predicament wasn't concerning enough, now Dean was acting all high and mighty again! "What is it?"
"Can't you hear that?" Dean queried, pausing and tilting his head slightly in contemplation.
"NO!" Sam snapped back angrily, scanning the darkened cafeteria. "What? Like the rain? You can hear something else?" He snapped, scrutinizing his brother's air of confidence. Sam was no longer in a very approachable mood.
"Hell, yeah..." Dean's eyebrows arched in proclamation.
Sam shook his head with irritation. Dean's new warped sense of humor just wasn't amusing in the least. In fact, Sam realized, Dean's new sense of humor was not quite how he'd describe Dean's new bland, serious, solemn spiel on life at all. Dean didn't seem to actually have a sense of humor anymore…
As his irritation swelled, he paused in his fuming to realize... There was something, no real noise at all, but something. "What is it?"
"Just listen." Dean smirked with triumph.
"Yeah. I hear it." Sam muttered as he concentrated on ignoring the rain, instead listening to a low, almost steady noise coming from the kitchen area. He could just make out a strange, constant, reverberating hum, like a thousand fluorescent lights. "But what is it? Sounds like the whole atmosphere is electrically charged."
"Yeah…" Dean mused.
"The demon?" Sam speculated, nodding in confirmation of Dean's assessment. "Then it must be close by."
"Probably." Dean smirked as he moved forward. It was far too strong to have been caused by the electrical storm outside, certainly wouldn't have penetrated the thick concrete walls.
Sam tilted his head in admiration. Sometimes Dean astounded him.
Even as they edged past the cafeteria towards the large swinging doors into the kitchen they felt the electromagnetic tension in the air. If most demons caused the majority of electrical appliances to flicker and falter, the amount of electrical ambience this demon created in the air could probably light a small city.
Dean glanced through one of the small porthole-like windows in the swinging door. Sam moved to peer through the other. The kitchen was cast in an eerie blue luminescence, seemingly emanating from the large man standing in the center of the room.
If this was Devoratus, he had possessed a tall, bulky man, Latino in appearance, but barely out of his teens. He stood before Elise with his hands held out in front of him. A steady reflective glimmer was radiating from within his hands that flickered intermittently to bright white, almost like an electrical spark was swirling in his palm. Most likely it was the cause of the heightened electromagnetic tension in the air and the ghostly blue glow filling the room. From where they stood, the brothers could hear him chanting something with a deep gravelly voice, booming like the thunder outside.
Sam was amazed. Devoratus hadn't so much as securely lashed the girl down. Instead Elise stood in the center of the kitchen, although by no means compliant about it. She was yelling at him, or more precisely the demon within was yelling at him, with demonic eyes, black with vehemence and anger. She stood in the center of a sigil, drawn in her own blood, obviously obtained from her slashed wrists. She was unable to move beyond its perimeter. It acted like a devil's trap, of sorts. More blood streamed down her forehead from some kind of symbol carved into her brow.
"What has he done to her?" Sam whispered cautiously. So far Devoratus was oblivious to their presence. The Hex bags were working a real treat! Their conversation was limited and in nothing but a whisper; their silence was of the essence. Their plan relied heavily on surprise, and the last thing they wanted was the demon finding them first.
"Branded her." Dean whispered. "With his insignia; he has the demon within her incarcerated."
"Yeah?" Sam hissed.
Dean held the Colt at the ready, with a glimmer in his eye that had Sam worried he was about to go charging in again…
Devoratus's chanting intensified, it was getting louder and more rhythmic. The demon was so deeply focused on his mantra, that he remained ignorant to the hunters' presence. Elise yelled at him to stop, pleaded for him to reconsider. Devoratus smirked at her wasted effort. He raised his arms out to the sides as his incantation intensified. Slowly his palms turned upwards, when he uncurled his fingers, a flaming ball of fire exploded in each palm.
Sam knew exactly what he was about to do. With time of the essence he pushed through the doors and sprang towards the figure, ready to take the demon out bare handed if necessary. Dean smiled with pride at his brother's bravado, and then followed in his wake.
Devoratus spun around to face the intruders, surprised by the disturbance. Sam barely managed to discharge his shotgun before Devoratus cast the flaming projectiles, one after the other, at the Winchesters. Devoratus avoided the rock salt blast, just as Sam ducked the first fireball. As they sprang into the kitchen Sam stumbled backwards into Dean, as he evaded the flaming projectile. The younger Winchester felt the intense heat whiz by his ear as it narrowly missed them both.
Dean had the Colt cocked and ready to fire, however his clash with Sam unsteadied him and he failed to fire at the demon. He was forced to leap to the side to dodge the second fireball; fortunately it veered like a curveball, and exploded against the wall behind him.
With a swift wave of his hand Devoratus raised the hunters off their feet and tossed them backwards. The brothers crashed heavily into the cold, white wall behind, dislodging several tiles with the impact.
Devoratus roared with ire. He dashed forward angrily welcoming the unexpected challenge of a conflict. He raised his hands again and more fiery orbs sprang forth from his palms. He began to roll the fireballs maliciously in his palms. He sprang boldly towards the hunters with a defiant audacity almost rejoicing in the prospect of a fight and two more sacrifices. He held the fire orbs securely in his grasp, until he was close enough to cast them at the interlopers. He wasn't afraid of mere intruders, certainly not of mortal humans. He took careful aim at the hunters as he ran towards them, sizing them up and fixing his eyes directly upon them.
Devoratus unleashed his weapons with impeccable skill. The next onslaught of fiery projectiles was cast with an aim worthy of a Yankee's pitcher. Sam attempted to avoid the first fireball, however, the flaming projectile grazed his hip, singeing his jeans and searing the flesh beneath. He flinched backwards with the sudden intense pain almost falling to his knees, patting at the smoldering site in fear of his trousers igniting altogether.
Dean raised the Colt and aimed at the demon, just as Devoratus tossed the next fireball. Dean was forced to duck and swerve, but as his weight shifted, his still healing thigh seized upon him, and he lurched sideways. Devoratus's fireball pelted him square into his shoulder, knocking him backwards, with its momentum. The Colt skidded from his grasp, sliding across the floor, some feet away. Dean shrieked with the sudden, severe pain as he crashed back into the wall behind. He collapsed to the floor in writhing agony. He ripped frantically at the sheer blue flames that scorched through his jacket and shirt, searing his skin in a sickly stench of burnt flesh. Dean grunted furiously as he ripped his flaming jacket off and tossed it aside, into the corner of the room. His shirt beneath was scorched black by the extreme heat, the gapping singed hole revealed an angry red and blackened burn across his shoulder. Pulses of what seemed to be electrical flashes radiated from the wound. Dean howled with the intensity of the searing pain that emanated through his body.
Hell-Fire had a real bite.
Elise clawed at her invisible, mystic prison, desperately trying to free herself. But Devoratus's enchantment held her fast. She screamed at him in a language even Sam could not understand. The demon ignored her ranting; his concentration focused solely on the brothers.
The demon bellowed with sudden rage, his tone in tune with another explosion of bright lightning and the subsequent thunder of the storm raging outside. If Devoratus was responsible for the electrical storm unfolding over Little Rock, the Winchester brothers were in for one hell of a fight…
Sam's first instinct was to drag his brother away, to pull him to safety and out of harm's way. However Dean immediately sprang to his feet, lunging towards the Colt with an expert agility. He spun around to confront the demon and roared at Devoratus with irritated anger.
Devoratus froze in his tracks. As the demon scrutinized the intruders he paused, long enough to actually carefully examine Dean and then Sam. The fireballs extinguished immediately. The demon stepped back cautiously, deep in contemplation. Then he dropped to his knees and cowered before them.
"What the hell?" Sam muttered.
The demon glanced from one Winchester to the other as he laid his hands to the ground in apparent worship. "Please, master, I beg your forgiveness…"
Dean simply chuckled and then shot the pitiful demon right between the eyes. Devoratus slumped forwards onto his elbows, as his face grimaced in awe and pain. Shards of lightning radiated from the bullet wound, fingering its way beneath his skin in a web-like luminance until he collapsed to the ground; dead.
With Devoratus's death, his hold over his captive wavered and a thick black cloud of demonic smoke spewed from Elise's mouth. The demon within saw its chance to escape and swiftly fled into the gloaming of dusk and the awaiting storm outside. Seconds later Elise awoke from her numbing possession and began to shriek in horror. Her terrified screams echoed through the old building and then she collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Sam rushed to her side, checking her pulse, and sighing with relief when he found one. His relief subsided when his attention returned to the now still and lifeless body of Devoratus's host.
"Damn it Dean… we coulda at least tried to exorcise him!" Sam complained. He was shocked by Dean's rapid judgment and punishment of the man, especially when he had apparently surrendered.
Dean glared at him with an obvious look of mocking. "Why?"
"Because you just killed the man as well." Sam pointed out the obvious. Had Kalfu been right? Was Dean just a killing machine, an executioner of their father's making? "Damn it, he was just a kid…"
"You worried about my soul again, Samuel?" Dean grinned.
"Maybe…" Sam muttered. Another notch to Kalfu; if Dean was really this happy to execute an innocent without even attempting to exorcise the demon…
"You rather he torch us, bar-be-que that girl too, while we read him poetry?" Dean scoffed.
"Dean, didn't you see." Sam argued. "He as good as surrendered!"
"Clever ploy…" Dean remarked. "Demons don't surrender."
"I don't suppose we'll ever know now…" Sam huffed. "Will we?"
"No." Dean snapped back decisively.
Sam remained silent as he inspected the lacerations across Elise's wrists, to find she was bleeding profusely. He tried to concentrate on administering some token gesture of aide to the girl, ripping lengths of fabric from his shirt to bandage her wounds. However, his furrowed brow revealed the tumultuous thoughts bouncing around his mind. "What the hell did he mean by 'master'?" Sam eventually queried.
"Who cares?" Dean sneered as he shoved his boot into the corpse of Devoratus's host in a brutal examination of the demon's certain demise. "He's dead now, and he's damn well never comin' back!"
"Yeah, but Dean…" Sam ranted. "Master?" The whole 'Prodigal Demon' business, that he hoped had died with Azazel, seemed to be rearing it's demonic head on more than just a few occasions.
"Forget it Sam…" Dean grinned to himself, out of sight of his brother. "He probably recognized the Colt. Damned thing was only trying to escape somehow, or distract us, so he could get the better of us."
"Yeah, but you don't think… I mean even Kalfu insinuated…" Sam stammered nervously. "And Azazel…"
"You mean the whole, you being the up and coming new leader of Hell?" Dean clarified. "What, like the Anti-Christ?"
"Well… Yeah…" Sam moaned.
"You planning on taking over the world, Sam?" Dean smirked with mischief.
"What? No!" Sam snapped back.
"Good… I won't have to kill you then." Dean replied with a cool grin. "Besides, I think it was me he was scared of!"
Sam rolled his eyes, and then glared back uncomfortably. 'Master' was an unusual greeting from a demon, and it unnerved him that, still, the creatures of the Underworld regarded him as some kind of Demonic Leader.
"I'll get the girl… what should we do with him… the body?" Sam muttered.
"We could cremate him…" Dean smiled, glancing at his still smoldering jacket. "We still got some of Hell's own fires…"
"Damn it Dean, get serious." Sam snapped at him as he scooped Elise up into his arms. "The police, the Feds, the papers… Oprah… they're gonna be all over this, once Elise tells 'em what happened. We can't just burn him."
"Have it your way… Master!" Dean smirked with glee. Sam shook his head in repugnance. They left Devoratus where he laid. Once Elise was up to recalling her story, and with the regular police patrols, somebody was sure to find the body, sooner or later.
oooOOOooo
Hightop Motel,
Little Rock, ARKANSAS.
Bobby heard the unmistakable rumble of the Impala as it pulled into the motel parking lot. It was dark outside, beyond dark, what with the raging storm that had passed through the town leaving behind dark clouds that now blackened the skies. The rain had let up almost as swiftly as it had started, and the storm clouds would eventually roll off into obscurity: None of which had quelled Bobby's concerns. His repeated calls, during the afternoon, to Dean's cell had proved fruitless, further exasperating his angst. He'd told himself that Dean had either not charged the phone, or he'd turned it off… and storms happened, even furious electrical storms like the one that had raged for no more than a half hour. Several had been raging on and off for a fortnight now… Still, Bobby had been sick with worry.
"Where the hell have you two been?" He demanded as he charged out towards the Impala. He met the brothers with a solemn, urging gaze. "Dean?" He queried as the elder gingerly alighted the Chevy.
Dean's eyes met him briefly. He glared at the seasoned hunter with a measured degree of loathing at once more being treated as a child. "It's done!" He smirked triumphantly.
Bobby took note of the hunter's tired expression, his scorched shirt, and his freshly bandaged right shoulder beneath and realized the brothers had had a tough day.
"What the? It was the girl?" Bobby queried hopefully, jumping to conclusions. "Elise?"
"No… She's still alive… just." Sam replied as he followed Bobby and Dean into the motel room. "We had to take her to the hospital. She was in a bad way…" He warned. Her body had been damaged, and she'd lost a large volume of blood, but there was no telling just how much the horrible trauma her fragile young psyche had endured. "What ever demon had her possessed, escaped us though."
"What? Devoratus… escaped?" Bobby muttered, still not up to speed on the whole demonic carousel the brother's had faced in one short afternoon.
"No, he's dead." Sam clarified. "The demon possessing Elise escaped. She wasn't Devoratus…" Sam gave Dean an uneasy glance as he sank onto the couch.
"And what the hell happened to you? You get this seen to at the hospital?" Bobby ventured to query as he urged Dean to sit at the dining table and moved to inspect the elder Winchester's latest battle wound. Sam's scorched and ripped jeans didn't pass the observant hunter's notice either.
Dean snapped Bobby's probing hand away. "No… Sam saw to it." He replied coolly. Bobby glared from one brother to the other, with a concerned scowl across his brow. It wasn't hard to pick up on Sam's concerned expression in return.
"It's a burn; I did my best…" Sam offered, glancing at Dean. He knew the wound was bad, but Dean, in usual fashion, remained stoically defiant about the severity. Dean had flatly refused to even enter the hospital, let along have his injury seen to.
Whilst interns had relieved him of the still unconscious Elise, Sam had made a stealthy exit, with a brief detour to a supply room at the hospital. Dean had waited impatiently in the Impala all the while. Once he returned, Sam peeled away the charred remains of Dean's T-shirt and cleaned the wound, as best he could, with sterile saline solution. Sam suspected that the injury beneath had most likely burnt through several layers of skin. It pained Dean to have Sam clean the charred fabric from the raw, scorched and blistered flesh, and yet still he refused the luxury of pain killers and proper aid, just meters away. Sam applied a liberal smearing of burn cream, and then bandaged a sterile gauze pad over the wound. It was all Dean would allow him to do. He had then seen to his own thigh, ripping the latest casualty of his wardrobe apart with his knife. Fortunately he had faired much better, coming away with a burn only slightly worse off than a bad sunburn.
"So… what happened?" Bobby demanded. He tried once more to examine Dean's injury, only to be swiftly rebutted again.
"It was Devoratus." Sam sighed. "He'd kidnapped Elise."
"And what happened to Devoratus?" Bobby queried, abandoning any further attempts to inspect Dean's wound.
"I killed him." Dean replied as he placed the Colt on the table with a broad grin of victory. "Shot him right between the eyes!" He stated blankly.
"She wasn't Devoratus after all." Sam informed Bobby. "He was going to kill her, Elise and the demon both. We only just got there in time…"
"So, we're one demon down, another still out there?" Bobby clarified.
"Yeah, at least we know Devoratus is well and truly dead." Sam replied.
"And the hospital…" Bobby gazed at Sam. "They ask any questions?"
"A few…" Sam nodded. "I'd give it an hour or so before the hospital staff come looking to report back to us. Well to the FBI, that is! Probably want us to explain exactly what happened and all… it won't be long before they come looking for us."
"We'd better get our things together then…" Bobby urged the brothers, "and leave as soon as possible." Once the police and the real FBI got wind of some 'alleged' FBI agents cracking the case, killing the perpetrator and rescuing the girl, well, neither the Winchesters, nor Bobby needed to be around for that kind of attention, or questioning.
"Definitely… So what now? Maybe that werewolf in North Dakota?" Sam asked eagerly.
"I might swing past and check that out, but I think you boys may have something else to do." Bobby replied ambiguously.
"What do you mean?" Sam queried.
"Let's just say I got an interesting call whilst you were out." Bobby replied, pulling his cell phone from his pocket.
"Yeah?" Sam queried. "Who from?"
"You." Bobby replied, smiling dubiously at Sam.
"What? I didn't… Besides Ruby's got my phone…" Sam retorted. "Oh shit… you mean… 'Ruby' called you?"
"Could be." Bobby admitted. "Whoever called couldn't connect, and when I tried to call back I got the usual message… phone's either disconnected or switched off." He gave Dean an accusing glare, however the hunter seemed intent on ignoring him.
"Batteries are probably flat by now!" Sam declared. "So what do we do?"
"I figure the best place to start is Dominion Springs… see if you can't find out what happened to her." Bobby suggested. He wasn't keen on them rushing off after any more demons just yet anyways, not with Dean injured again. "I've tried scrying for her again, but I still get nothing, but you never know. She was hurt pretty bad, maybe she's just not strong enough to attract my radar…"
"Yeah, or it could be she's…" Sam's voice faltered as Dean glared at him with an unmistakable 'I told you so' expression.
"Who cares? She's a lying whore-witch! We should just let the bitch rot…" Dean began vehemently, then paused when both Bobby and Sam reeled around and glared back at him.
"What, Dean?" Sam demanded angrily. "This is the demon that saved your ass?" He snapped back at his ungrateful brother.
"Fine, let's go find her." Dean retorted somewhat calculatingly. "We can tie up the loose ends! Those hounds won't have left much of her to find though."
oooOOOooo
Booby knew it was time to head back home. His dog would be missing him by now, and he couldn't expect his neighbor to keep feeding the Rottweiler indefinitely. And he had a salvage yard to tend to… And the brothers would need a decent ammunition reserve for the Colt. Even so, it was breaking his heart to leave the brothers, but they all had issues they needed to resolve. Dean certainly didn't want him around, he'd made that sentiment perfectly clear!
Bobby couldn't help but speculate that the kid had taken a sizeable chunk of Hell back with him as a souvenir and it was more than the weary hunter could cope with for the time being. Even though Dean's latest demon hunting exploits seemed to give him some sort of direction, something to put his life back on track with, with some kind of bearing Bobby was concerned. Executing Devoratus, in such a brutal manner, was mind-boggling; because even Bobby knew Dean's irritated and angry demeanor and his callousness was out of character, even for the usually brusque and arrogant Dean Winchester!
But even Bobby knew that Dean had to deal with his issues in his own way and in his own time: Like when John had died. And it had taken the kid some time to finally face up to his grieving emotions then. And then when Sam had died too, his ass-about resolution in dealing with Sam's death was proof enough: He simply didn't know how to deal. The only solution he could live with was what had got him in this situation in the first place. And it wasn't like there was any kind of precedence for being condemned to death at the jaws of Hell's Hounds, and facing an eternity in Hell, and only just escaping both by the skin of your teeth! The kid had suffered from a stunted sense of emotion his whole life, courtesy of his father, most likely. John had been a Marine, and emotions were something that Marines just didn't have, certainly not when on the job. And the Winchesters were always on the job! With Dean's desperate need to please the man, he had learnt to simply shut down all visible signs of emotions, to become his father's 'good little soldier'. All in all he had been left unable to properly deal with his emotions when they managed to escape his lock box of feelings and clawed their way to the surface. Dean had never really had a chance to form an emotional attachment to anyone other than his father and brother; he simply never had a chance to learn how to develop a balanced psyche. At least Sam had faired better in that department…
Bobby watched as the Impala pulled away. And although he fought it, he had a dark and grim feeling at the pit of his stomach that something wasn't quite right. Something wasn't quite right with Dean Winchester…
A desperate phone call from Sam in the following few days would only confirm his fears.
oooOOOooo
I hope you enjoy.
And please, please review: It's always nice to know somebody's reading your work. What with all the hours of writing, proof reading, hair pulling, spell checks (and then only realising after posting that the word was spelt correctly, only it wasn't the word you wanted to write…) writer's block moments, new episodes that totally blow your fic out of the water and sleepless nights coming up with brilliant plots and dialogue, only to have forgotten it in the morning!