***
She arrived at the motel Sam and Dean were staying at in under half an hour, due to some minor breaking of the speed limits. She climbed out of the car, and after casting a glance around the parking lot, noticed that the Impala was missing; she guessed Sam had taken the Impala somewhere. She half ran down the corridors towards the Winchesters' motel room; she was halfway to the door when she stopped dead. She could hear a high pitched noise, a noise at such a painful frequency it gave her a headache. She covered her ears in a vain attempt to block out the clamouring racket, doubled over in pain. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to see Bobby stood behind her, yelling something but she couldn't hear it over the noise. He gestured towards the door at the end of the corridor, and Miriana suddenly remembered Dean. She ran towards the door with Bobby and kicked it open in one swift move, so it slammed forcefully against the wall. Miriana looked down to see Dean lying in a mess of broken mirrors and shattered windows, his hands clapped over his ears, yelling in pain. The television was blaring out static and the radio was yo-yoing between different frequencies, exactly as they had been at Pamela's house during the séance. Within seconds, the deafening clamour was silenced, and Miriana regained control of her senses. She ran over to Dean and tried to pull him to face her, yelling his name, feeling the sharp shards of glass cutting through her jeans and tearing gashes in the skin of her knees, her ears still ringing like someone had just rung church bells in her head.
***
A short time later, Miriana was sat in the back seat of Bobbys' car, worriedly watching Dean wiping blood away from his ears with a cloth. She started bouncing her leg up and down and drumming her fingers on the back of Bobbys' seat, a typical sign of her nervousness.
"How you doin' kid?" Bobby asked.
"Aside from the church bells ringing in my head, just peachy," Dean said sarcastically. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and threw the bloody cloth onto the floor.
"What the hell was that?" Miriana asked, leaning between the two front seats and drumming her fingers ever faster on the back of Bobbys' seat.
"I don't know," Dean sighed, "But that's exactly what passed over me at the gas station right after I clawed my way out of my grave."
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled a number, then put the phone the phone to his ear. After a few seconds she faintly heard Sam's voice on the other end of the line.
"What are you doing?" asked Dean in a sharp tone. Sam replied, then Dean snapped in an aggravated voice,
"In my car?"
Another few seconds of silence, then,
"Well Bobby and Miriana are back, going to grab a beer. And probably a white wine spritzer for miss posh panties over here. You know how much of a lightweight she is."
Miriana thumped him on the shoulder with her fist.
"Done. Catch you later." He flipped the phone shut.
"Why the hell didn't you tell him?" Bobby demanded.
"Because he'd just try and stop us," Dean replied.
"From what?" Miriana and Bobby asked in unison.
"Summoning this thing. It's time we face it head on."
"Excuse me?" Miriana shrieked. Dean winced.
"You can't be serious?" Bobby said in a disbelieving tone.
"As a heart attack. Its high noon baby," Miriana rolled her eyes, swore softly and thumped back against her seat.
"We don't know what it is! Could be a demon could be anything!" Bobby exclaimed. The full gravity of the situation hit Miriana like a freight train at this point.
"That's why we gotta be ready for anything," he shifted in his seat and pulled out Ruby's jagged edged knife and spun it between his fingers, "Got the big time magic knife. You've got an arsenal in the trunk."
"This is a bad idea," Bobby grumbled.
Miriana leaned forward in her seat again, "Yeah, I'm violent agreement with you there, Bobby!"
"Yeah, well I couldn't agree more, but what other choice do we have?" Miriana knew that there wasn't really any other option to finally discover what exactly was happening.
"We could choose life!" Bobby said.
"If we're taking a vote, I choose life," Miriana said enthusiastically.
"Look, whatever this thing is, it's after me. That much we know. Well I got no place to hide. I can either get caught with my pants down again, or we can make a stand."
"We could use Sam for this," Bobby stated.
"No he's better off where he is," Dean said quietly.
Miriana slumped further down in her seat and give a loud sigh and folded her arms across her chest. "Oh bloody hell, this is ridiculous!" she snapped, and gave Deans' seat a vicious kick.
"I still say this is a bad idea. And I'm always right."
***
I can't believe I'm doing this.
Miriana was down on her knees, adding the finishing touches to a huge devils trap she was spraying on the floor. They had driven to a nearby derelict barn, and had set about spraying every single trap and symbols from every single religion and culture they knew on the walls and the floor. Dean was busy lying out all the different weapons they had on a table at the far end of the barn, running his fingers over every kind of gun and blade they had, checking they had everything they needed. Miriana stood up and surveyed her work proudly with her hands on her hips.
"Done!" she announced. Dean turned from checking the weapons and looked down at the intricate devils trap and smirked, the usual smile that meant he was about to make an insulting comment.
"Well it took you long enough!"Miriana shot him a filthy glare.
"I can shove this where the sun doesn't shine if you want?" she asked, waving the metal can of black spray. Dean just smirked again in response. Bobby finished spraying a huge, detailed Tibetan protection symbol on the wall, then stood in the middle in the room and surveyed his work as Miriana had done. They had covered almost every inch of the walls and the floors in just under an hour; Miriana couldn't imagine how any demon or any other supernatural thing could work their way through all of the traps.
"That's one hell of an art project you got goin', Bobby," Dean said, leaving the neatly organised weapons on the table and running his eyes along the floor and walls.
"Traps and talismans from every faith on the globe," Bobby explained, "How you doin' over there?"
"We got stakes, salt, shotguns, the knife, silver," running his fingers along object as he said it, "we're ready to catch and kill just about anything I've ever heard of."
Bobby sighed heavily as he leaned against one of the tables, "I still say this is a bad idea."
"Yeah, I heard you the first ten times, Bobby," Dean muttered.
"Well it doesn't seem to have sunk in with you exactly how much of a stupid idea this is. I'll keep telling you until it does," Miriana snapped, pulling a slim silver knife of the table and spinning it between her fingers.
Dean ignored her, "What do you say Bobby. Time to ring the dinner bell?"
Bobby walked over to a silver bowl which was lying on the back of the table. Bobby had prepared it earlier with a mix of herbs, graveyard dirt and hoodoo dust, and now he stood over it, quietly reciting words of Latin over the bowl. He swirled the contents of the bowl around, then replaced it on the table and leaned against it again. Nothing happened.
"Now what?" Miriana asked.
"Now, we wait," Bobby said. Miriana sighed heavily and jumped up so she was sat on the table, and swung her legs back and forth.
"Great."
Time seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly, and Miriana had nothing to do but stare at the floor and walls, which meant her thoughts returned to all of the worries she had been obsessing over in the motel room. That was the exact reason that Miriana liked to be constantly doing something productive; with nothing to do, her thoughts ran away with themselves. She could feel the ache of anticipation of her stomach, and her heart was beating twice as fast as normal, thundering out a jagged rhythm in her chest. She took the small silver knife and began scratching a pentagram into the warped wood of the table she was sat on, as if they didn't have enough already. Bobby was leaning quietly against the table, and Dean was sat on the table opposite Miriana, swinging his legs back and forth and drumming his fingers against the barrel of his shotgun. Everything was silent aside from the whispering of the wind outside and the faint creaking of the wood of the barn.
It was over an hour before Dean finally broke the long silence.
"Are you sure you did the ritual right?" Dean asked Bobby. Bobby shot him a glare and Dean raised his hands in apology. "Sorry. Touchy, touchy huh?" Dean said to Miriana out of the corner of his mouth.
Suddenly, the wind picked up in intensity and began rattling the boards on the roof of the barn so they banged loudly against one another. All three hunters looked up in alarm, and Miriana put the knife down on the table and instead closed her hands around a shotgun. Its weight felt more comforting in her hands than the small knife. Bobby stood up from the table and pumped his shotgun once, casting his eyes around the barn. Dean stood up too, so that the three of them were stood shoulder to shoulder near the back wall.
"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind," Dean said. The second he said it however, the light behind them blew out in a vivid burst of white hot sparks, then another light went in blinding shower of sparks, then another. Miriana jumped as she felt the heat of the sparks searing her skin through the thin fabric of her shirt. With a loud splintering crash, the doors at the end of the barn swung open, and figure started to walk through the rain of burning sparks. Miriana, Dean and Bobby exchanged a brief glance, then raised their shotguns and aimed towards the oncoming figure. Miriana squeezed the trigger of the shotgun, feeling the recoil of the gun thumping into her shoulder every time she fired off another shotgun round. Like at the motel and the séance, the noise in the room was intense, and Mirianas' eardrums were rattling with each loud bang of the shotgun. Dean and Bobby were both firing the shotguns at the oncoming figure, but he didn't falter or stop once, not through the force of the shotgun shells or the shower of burning sparks from the exploding lights. He reached the end of the barn, and Miriana could finally see him clearly.
He was wearing a long tan trench coat with a black suit and white shirt underneath. He wore a tie loosely around his neck; to Miriana he just looked like any other scruffy worker from the city coming home at the end of a long day. He was about Deans' height, although he had a slighter build. He had dark, tousled chestnut hair and a light layer of stubble on his neck and well sculpted jaw. As he walked past her to where Dean was stood, his eyes passed over Bobby, then lingered on her for a few seconds. They were a piercing sapphire blue, intelligent and deep, and when she met his eyes for those few brief seconds, she felt a shiver run up and down her spine. Dean was watching him with an apprehensive look on his face; he reached behind him and closed his hand around the hilt of Ruby's knife and held it tight at his side. He reached Dean and came to a halt. Miriana glanced at Bobby, who was watching the scene before him with panicked eyes.
"Who are you?" Dean asked in a tense voice; when she looked down at his hands she saw that he was gripping the handle of the blade so tight his knuckles were white
"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition," he stated; his voice was deeper and gruffer than she'd expected. Dean raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah, thanks for that," Dean said, then plunged the blade of Ruby's' knife straight into his chest, sinking it in right up to the handle. Nothing happened. Just like the shotgun shells, the blade did nothing to harm him, he didn't even flinch. Deans' eyes flew wide in panic, as did Mirianas'; she had never seen anything remotely demonic survive that knife, she knew even Lilith was afraid of it. He grabbed hold of the hilt of the blade and wrenched it out of his chest as easily as if he was removing a knife from butter, then dropped it on the floor. Next to her, Bobby, dropped the shotgun and grabbed an iron bar off the table and swung it towards the back of his head. Before the bar went anywhere close to his head, he stopped the swing with an upraised hand, barely even blinking. He rounded on Bobby, touched two fingers to his forehead, then Bobby's' eyes rolled up and he slumped to the floor, the iron bar falling to the ground with a metallic clatter. Miriana caught sight of Deans' panicked face, then she dropped her shotgun too and swung her arm back, preparing for a right hook. Before she could make contact with his face however, he caught her fist easily in his hand, as he had caught Bobby's' iron bar. His hands were warm, which surprised her; for some reason she had expected them to be icy cold. His dark blue eyes met hers, and again she shivered, feeling weak and suddenly and painfully aware of how hard her heart was pounding in her chest. He touched two fingers lightly to her forehead, as with Bobby; she caught a brief glimpse of Deans' frightened face before the blackness rolled up and covered her.