*
Bobby's pushing the car to eighty-five, barreling down the highway, his scowl getting deeper by the minute as Sam tells him in greater detail everything that happened since that morning.
"And the angels said Dean was possessed? By what?"
"I don't know, Bobby. Uriel called it a 'thing' and Castiel said he couldn't feel Dean at all anymore. So whatever it is, it was able to get past our protection symbols and Cas's hand print to get to Dean. This is some big ass demon mojo and I gotta tell you, it's scaring the hell out of me. We don't even know what we're up against! How are we supposed to fight it?"
Sam looks out the window, shaking his head and swallowing hard. His voice is thick with tears when he finally manages to speak, "And how in hell are we supposed to save my brother?"
"We'll save him, Sam." Bobby reaches out to squeeze Sam's shoulder, "We'll get him back, kid. We just have to- Oh, Shit!!"
Bobby grabs the wheel, stomping on the brakes so hard the tires lock, squealing rubber as they bite the road. He twists the wheel, pulling the car sideways, barely stopping in time, missing hitting the car in front of him by mere inches.
With no warning, traffic ahead of them has stopped dead, cars scattered, strewn helter-skelter all over the highway, some sideways across lanes, others pulled off onto the shoulder, still others off the road completely, ass up in the ditch.
People are everywhere, running back and forth, yelling, scurrying like rats in a maze of cars.
Bobby breathes deep, trying to stop the pounding of his heart, loosening his death grip on the wheel. He looks at Sam who shoots back a bewildered "What the hell?', staring wide-eyed at the scene in front of them.
About a half-mile further up, they can see an orange barricade, haphazardly thrown together and behind it, mass confusion...police and emergency workers running around frantically, yelling, fire trucks and police cars with lights flashing and sirens wailing. Adding to the din are honking horns and car alarms bleating madly, and over it all, a haze of smoke from car fires, the smell of burning flesh and rubber hanging heavy in the air.
Bobby rolls down his window and stops a man hurrying by, "Hey, what's going on up there?"
"Bad accident. Some trucker lost control and rolled over a bunch of cars, lots of people dead and the truck spilled toxic shit all over the road. They're not letting anybody through 'til they get it cleaned up. Officials are saying we're safe back here, behind the fence but anybody past it, well, they're not doing so good, I guess."
Bobby pushes back his hat, "They say how long it's gonna take before we can get through?"
The guy shrugs, "Few hours is what I heard. They're trying to divert traffic but so far, nothing. Official word is 'they're working on it" so that pretty much means we're stuck here." and he's gone, scurrying away into the crowd .
"Well, that's just frigging wonderful." Bobby grumbles to Sam, who's frantically searching his laptap for an alternate route. Sam snaps his finger and points to the screen, "Got it!"
Bobby looks in the rearview mirror and shakes his head, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, "Too late, Sam. We're not going anywhere."
Sam looks behind them and sees the cars, stacked up, boxing them in. He pounds the dashboard with a fist, "Dammit, Bobby! We don't have time for this! We gotta get to Dean!"
"Don't yell at me, boy! This ain't my doing!" Bobby snaps back and then shuts up, knowing Sam's just scared. Sam isn't the only one.
He sighs, getting out of the car, slamming the door for satisfaction, squinting in the late afternoon sun. Sam joins him, making frustrated noises like that'll help any, and motions with a hand, "Let me go see what I can find out."
Bobby nods, watching Sam work his way through the cars and people, his mind going a mile a minute, searching his memory banks to figure out what could possibly have taken over Dean. Nothing that he remembers is that powerful but something nudges his brain, something he read recently...
He scowls, narrowing his eyes and tries to bring back the memory. Dammit! He's got nothing. He rubs his forehead, going at it another way, trying to place where he was or who he was talking to. An image of Dean comes to mind, staring at Bo Derek, saying "Oh!" in a funny voice and the memory snaps into place. He was in the panic room, reading Revelations and there was something about the AntiChrist rising.
Bobby tries to bring back the words that he read, staring into the distance to help his focus, realizing he's inadvertently gawking at a woman standing in front of him. She's looking back at him and he nods, almost smiles at her in apology and then realizes the hairs on his neck are rising up, his internal alarm going off loudly.
The way she's looking at him...she's glaring, her eyes cold and hostile, like she wants to kill him. He looks behind him to see if she's maybe looking at someone else but no, it's him she's wanting to wipe off the face of the earth. This stranger wants him dead, plain and simple, and he knows it, feels it in his gut.
Bobby's eyes slide away from her, to the man standing next to her. Shit, he's doing it too, staring a hole straight through him, shooting bullets at him with his eyes and there's another, this one a little boy, glaring up at Bobby with palpable hate.
What the hell?
Suddenly, the people milling around him, so noisy and frantic a moment ago, have all gone dead quiet.
His eyes snap from person to person…every one of them…every eye...staring at him, loathing and rage in their faces...piercing him with their unwavering gaze...drawing a bead on him in unison.
Bobby's body is reaching for the shotgun before his mind even tells it to move.
Someone bumps into him and he swings wild. Sam manages to block most of the punch but it still clips him good on the chin, "Shit, Bobby…" and it's clear that Sam's seen them too, every person, every one, all staring at them, silently, with glassy, hate-filled eyes.
Sam's gun's in his hand, taking in their predicament with a side-swing of his head. They're surrounded, the crowd swelling closer, pushing at them.
Bobby can feel Sam's back against his, pressing up against him and he leans backward so they're back to back, facing the threat, circling desperately so nothing can hit them without them seeing, cornered...
"What do you want?" Sam yells into the crowd, trying to buy some time…even though he knows they're outnumbered and as good as dead, he's still gotta try.
Bobby cocks his gun, taking aim at a burly man pushing up close, snarling, "Back off or I'll open you a hole."
The man smiles at him and his eyes turn black. Next to him, the teenager, pimply faced and lanky legs, his eyes change, too, going black as ebony.
The old woman, the pretty blond in the short skirt, the Hell's Angel biker, all of them...everyone that Bobby can see, eyes all turn black as night.
Demons. Every single one of them.
Sam's back stiffens and Bobby knows he's seen them change, too. He feels Sam moving against him and twists his head, shooting a look over his shoulder.
Sam has his arm outstretched, hand swinging back and forth like a crazy pendulum, first to one demon, then to the next, panicking, unable to focus his mind on just one of them, not knowing who to send back to hell first.
"Get back!" Sam voice shakes, "Holy shit, Bobby! Are you seeing this?"
"Sam, how many can you take out?" Bobby snaps, pulling out his holy water.
"Not enough to matter, Bobby, there's too many of them." Sam hisses back, still swinging his arm to stop their advancing.
With each move, the demon he singles out falls back but others press ahead and he's getting nowhere with his threats; he's going to have to focus and take some down so the others back off. Sam shoves his gun down his pants so he doesn't lose it while he's in the throes of pushing their demon asses back to hell. If he's going down, he's going down fighting.
Sam chooses a short, balding man standing directly in front of him, concentrating intently, his vision tunneling until he sees only the man, focusing his power and gathering it to him. The man starts to retch and heave, black smoke curling out, slowly until Sam gives a push and then it pours out of his mouth, gushing into the air around him until he drops to the ground. Sam grips the smoke tightly, sending the demon essence back to hell.
Sam comes back to awareness, wiping his bloody nose and reaches out towards another. The demons surge towards them, trying to pull Bobby away but he fights back, throwing holy water out in splashes, and shooting as many bastards as he can hit. Sam takes out another one but he's too slow, too goddamn slow and they're losing ground quick. In another minute, they'll be dead and unable to help anybody.
Suddenly, the crowd goes silent, standing still as statues, black eyes staring straight ahead, heads cocked to one side, listening to something Sam and Bobby can't hear.
Their mouths open in unison, piercing the air with ear-splitting screams, black smoke pouring out of them, foul and putrid, retching, spewing into the sky, rolling together into a dark, pulsating cloud.
The bodies drop to the ground with sickening thuds, some already dead, some almost dead and still others crying and shrieking in pain and agony at the state of their own flesh. For most of them, the demons have been riding them for so long, keeping them going that once they are emptied of the evil entity, their bodies are so injured and broken that only their minds are working, alive, in pain, aware...
The smoke hangs heavy in the air, the stink of sulfur burning the nose, growing as each demon soul is added, waiting until all have been gathered into its depths and then…
It shoots across the sky, torpedo-like, the frenzy of evil now flying over the barricade, past the sirens and lights, landing on the other side, to possess new bodies over there, moving with one purpose, to get to their final destination.
Sam and Bobby watch in horror as the bodies fall and the demons rush away. They run forward, towards the barricade and hands are reaching for them, grabbing at their pants and boots, the meat-suits the demons left behind, broken, dying, crying, screaming, needing help.
Sam is tripped, falling on his knees, desperate fingers clutching at him, voices begging, "Help me, please…", praying for deliverence, for the end to come take them.
His eyes fill with tears as he looks up at Bobby, pulling the hands from him and struggling to his feet, taking up his gun.
Sam knows what he has to do, knows it's the only thing he can do for them but he fights against it, staring at Bobby with sad, hopeless eyes. Bobby's reached the same conclusion and nods at Sam, his own heart wrenching with the weight that's just dropped on them. He'd rather die than have to do this and he knows after this, they'll never be the same.
Bobby flinches as the first shots ring out, as Sam starts to put down those in the most misery, shooting them quick, clean, through the temple. Bobby is faced with the responsibility of selecting the ones who can't survive, holding them for Sam to kill, helping him do the unspeakable. One after another, each body more broken than the last, some struggle against them but Bobby holds fast and Sam's gun never wavers.
Both men are sobbing in despair, tears rolling down their faces as they do what they must and when it's done, Bobby grabs Sam up, hugging him tight and breathes a prayer, "Jesus, please forgive us." as they struggle to climb over the bodies now surrounding them.
They go back to Bobby's car, loading up as many weapons as they can carry and start towards the barricade, not having any clear plan in mind other than to get to Boston. Since Boston is beyond the restricted area, they're going through the fence, one way or the other and God help anyone who gets in their way or tries to stop them.
As they draw near, they see a figure in a HAZMAT suit come to the barricade, waiting for them. Without a word, two of the protective suits are handed over and Sam tries to see inside the helmet, squinting his eyes and moving close. A hand reaches up and pulls off the mask and a tall dark haired man stares back at them.
"Do we know you?" Sam asks, hesitantly taking the suits.
"It's me, Sam."
"Ruby?"
"Yes. Put these on. We don't have much time."
"Where's your body?" Sam asks.
Ruby motions sideways, "Over there. I'll be right back." and goes to possess her old body again. She keeps the HAZMAT suit, putting it on and leaving the tall man safely wandering behind the barricade, away from the radiation spill.
When she re-joins them, Sam and Bobby already have their suits on and they venture forward, past the barricade and into what looks to be a war zone.
They hurry past the smashed vehicles, cars twisted and dented, pieces everywhere, fenders, doors, tires laying all over the ground. Their boots crunch over the shattered safety glass as they pass by broken metal and body parts.
Bobby and Sam avert their eyes, trying not to look at the dead and injured, their minds shutting down, having reached their breaking point, shell-shocked. Later, when this is all over, they can maybe comprehend the horror they had to commit but for now, there's no looking back, no time for re-thinking necessary actions. They have to move ahead, soldier on, save Dean, stop Lucifer, keep on fighting. Later on, they can let themselves think, remember, cope but not now, not when so much is at stake, so much to lose…
If there even is a 'later on'.
They step over rivulets of radioactive waste, a glowing greenish bile, hoping to hell that the suits will protect them so they can manage to get out of this alive, with their organs and bodies still working. Almost through now, they can see the other side of the barricade and start to run, white boots thumping, seeing the clean air, the light outside of this greenish, smoke-filled nightmare.
They all see it at once, a HAZMAT truck, on the other side of the fence, complete with sirens and lights.
Seems luck is finally cutting them a break.
A twist of wires, a spark and they're on the road again, leaving it all behind them, the screaming and the crying of the almost dead still pounding in their ears.
It's the sounds of their worst nightmares.
*