Do No Harm
Beat your swords into plows,
Don't be afraid I'll show how
Lift your eyes to the skies,
All is holy here
–Carrie Newcomer
The Impala rolled up to the empty warehouse where Devi had had her initial run-in with the Winchesters. It was the nearest out-of-the-way place they could think of; the work they had ahead was going to be noisy. Dean drew an antique Colt revolver from the glove box, and held it ready as he popped the trunk.
"Don't even think about it," he growled.
The demon curled her lip, but made no attempt to cause trouble, trying instead to keep some semblance of dignity as she exited the trunk. High heels didn't make this easy, and her efforts were immediately undercut by Sam stuffing a burlap bag with a devil's trap painted on it over her head. Dean grabbed the green canvas duffle bag that Sam held out to him, hiking it onto his shoulder, before grabbing the demon. As Dean frogmarched her towards the building, Sam leaned over Devi.
"What did you mean when you told Tyler it was 'too late for you'?" he asked, brow furrowed with worry.
"Oh, that," Devi rolled her eyes, gesturing offhandedly, "I would have said anything to get him out of the car."
"Do you really feel that way – like you're stuck in this?" Sam pressed.
"No!" Devi denied sharply, then hesitated, "Look, it's not important." Sam raised his eyebrows at that, and she huffed impatiently, "Can we talk about this later? When we don't have a demon to contend with?"
Sam seemed discontent, but Devi quickened her pace to leave him behind, eyes fixed on the warehouse. As she approached, a sudden burst of imagery flashed across her mind, like a memory that arises of its own accord and can't be denied: running across a broad plain, a lithe brown horse beneath her; the steel rod of a javelin in her hand; a muted roar rising behind. She looked back over her shoulder, saw a crowd of people on horseback. Some were wearing armor and all were waving some sort of weapon. Beyond them, an enormous bank of steel blue clouds roiled. Devi felt the damp, heavy flatness of the air, smelled the ozone of lightning. Despite her speed, a stiff, wet breeze outpaced her. The rain was coming – it would swallow her enemies whole.
The sensation of falling tugged her back into her own body, into the present. Sam caught her arm as she stumbled.
"Whoa, are you okay?" he asked.
She blinked at him dumbly for moment, before shaking herself mentally. "Yeah, fine," she straightened, not meeting his eye. This had never happened before, at least not while she was awake. She had seen similar flashes in dreams, but had always chalked it up to half-remembered Bollywood historical epics and an overactive imagination. She leaned on the door-jam a moment, gathering her wits, until she noticed Sam was still watching her and quickly pulled herself together.
Inside, Dean had tied the demon to one of the steel girders supporting the roof, and was busy spray-painting a devil's trap around her. Finishing, he tossed the can into the bag, and began rifling through it, setting out items as he went: a large can of salt, a metal flask, and long silver blade. Devi recognized the design. "Is that- That looks like the weapon Castiel used."
"Angel blade," Dean explained, "All angels carry 'em. Can kill just about anything."
"And Cas lent it to you?" Devi guessed innocently.
Dean ducked his head a fraction, lips pursed, before shooting Devi a quick smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Nah, got my own a couple years back – there was some... conflict in Heaven."
"From the Apocalypse?" Devi asked.
"After that," Dean stood, shrugging his shoulders and holding the angel blade loosely in his hand. He whisked the bag from the demon's head and crouched in front of her, flicking the blade up so she could see it. "So, sweetheart, I hear you're into sailors," he grinned. "Can't resist a man in uniform, huh?"
The demon sneered, but said nothing.
Dean pressed on carelessly. "The thing is, you've been a little grabby lately. We're gonna need you to drop the contracts on these guys."
"Yeah, I'll get right on that," the demon snorted contemptuously.
"How many saps you stringing along?" Dean's cheeky grin didn't waver, but his eyes had gone hard.
"More than projected," she answered with a cold sort of pride, "I made my quota days ago – everything since has been gravy."
Dean set the point of the angel blade against her shoulder. "How. Many?" he gritted out. When the demon only smirked in response, he slashed downward, rending a line down her arm.
The demon's eyes flicked black as she bit back a snarl that turned into a strained laugh. "All these boys playing 'Real American Heroes,' pretending to be so noble, but they come running to us like any other meatsack, and for the same things – power, money, sex. One gave me his soul in exchange for a girl who snubbed him taking a one-way trip into the river." She grinned leeringly at Dean, " We already fulfilled our side of his deal. Are you sure you want that one back?"
Dean set his jaw and drove the angel blade into the meat of her wounded arm. Her scream trailed away into a depraved chuckle.
"Go on if it makes you feel better, little man," she growled. "Those souls are ours, bought and paid for! In ten years, they'll dance to our tune," she grinned savagely, "or be damned."
Devi had been watching from her seat on the floor, just outside the trap. Now she rose, her mouth pressed into a slim line.
"Oh, you want in on this too, princess?" the demon taunted.
Devi stalked over to the captive without a word, pulling a plastic tube out of her coat pocket. Inside was a steel surgical scalpel. Devi turned back the collar of the demon's shirt, gripped her uninjured shoulder firmly, and put the scalpel's edge to skin, cutting a shallow circle the size of a silver dollar just below her throat.
It was hard to tell who was more shocked, the Winchesters or their prisoner. Devi didn't even look at her victim as she transected the circle with a triangle, cutting a crescent within that.
"What are you doing?!" the demon screeched. "Stop it!"
"Let's try this again," Devi said icily, as she began cutting sixteen pointed rays around the circle's edge. She briefly dabbed over the cuts with the demon's lapel – the blood was obscuring the shape. "How many contracts have you made in this city?" Her voice was utterly calm, flat and dead.
"Screw you!" the demon spat.
Devi didn't even look her in the face, but merely nodded and continued cutting. She finished the outer edge, then held her palm over the symbol. "Pavanah pavatam asmi," she intoned softly.
The demon fell silent, staring into space with a look of vague terror. Devi leaned into her field of view, and she stared at the seer blankly, as if she had never seen her before.
"How many contracts have you made in this city?" Devi repeated quietly.
"Twenty-seven," the demon answered hollowly.
"Can you cancel them?" Devi asked.
"I don't hold the contracts," the demon replied.
Devi grimaced, but pressed on. "Who does hold them?"
The demon blinked, seeming to lose track of the conversation for a moment before finally saying dimly, "She calls herself Rosier."
"And where do I find her?"
"The Westin, Presidential Suite," the demon added dreamily.
"Of course," Devi let out little sigh of aggravation. "How many demons does she have guarding her and where?"
"Eight," her captive responded, "Two inside the suite, two outside, two patrolling the hall, and two in the lobby."
Devi nodded and stood up. "One last thing – does Rosier have any other contract teams working on the Academy?"
The demon's head fell back limply as she gazed vacantly up at the seer. "We were the last."
Devi slipped the scalpel back into its case, making a mental note to clean and disinfect it. It made no difference to the demons, but for her, it was a matter of properly caring for her tools. She was far too conscientious to let something like that slide. She stepped behind the bound demon, drawing her stone-hilted knife, but her move to administer a deathblow was arrested by Dean pulling her away.
"Whoa, hang on, Determin-ator," he demanded.
"What?" Devi was indignant. "We can't let her go – she'll either go back to making contracts or run off and warn her boss!"
"There's another option," Sam put forth, coming to assist his brother. "We can exorcise her."
Devi stilled suddenly. "What do you... That can be done?"
"You didn't know?" Dean stepped back in surprise as Devi shook her head slowly. "Here, watch Sam," he said, drawing her to one side.
Sam turned toward the demon and began reciting in Latin. Devi listened intently, eyes fixed on the demon, her brows drawn together. At the last line, the demon poured out in river of black smoke, and the woman slumped back her bonds, dazed. Sam hurried to untie her, crouching beside and checking her vitals. Dean moved to help, but stopped when he felt a hand on his arm.
"Dean," she looked at him with haunted eyes, "Could I have... All those other demons I've questioned – could this have saved the people they were inside of?"
Dean didn't respond at first, he was so shaken by the look of guilt on her face. "Sometimes it doesn't work, on stronger demons," he answered carefully. "Sometimes the body's too damaged by what the demon's put it through."
"But it might have?" Devi pressed.
Dean swallowed hard, glancing away before looking at Devi with apologetic eyes.
"Hai Ram," Devi murmured, covering her mouth with her hand. She watched Sam as he carefully bandaged the formerly-possessed woman's arm. The woman looked down at her chest, touching the blood in confused horror, and Devi turned away. She slipped out the door of the warehouse, and leaned heavily against the outside of the building, feeling sick.
A moment later, Dean stuck his head out the door. "Hey, you okay?"
Devi shook her head, eyes on the ground.
Dean glanced back inside over his shoulder, making sure his brother had a handle on things, then stepped outside. He leaned against the wall beside her, standing quietly as he waited for her to speak.
"I didn't know," Devi said at last, her voice very soft. "I mean, I knew about possession, how demons take over people, but I didn't know there was a way to get them out. I thought only deva or angels or something could do things like that."
Dean didn't respond, sensing there was more.
"Primum non nocere," Devi breathed out, leaning her head back against the wall. "You know what that means?"
Dean had enough experience with Latin to venture a guess, "'First, do no harm'?"
Devi nodded, still looking at the sky. There were a few stars peeking through the light pollution of the nearby city. "My dad had it on a plaque in his office. I saw it every time I visited him at work. And later, when I was doing pre-med... it's kind of a first principle, ethics-wise."
"Devi," Dean began, but she shook her head stubbornly.
"I mutilated that woman, Dean," she said softly. "Everyday, for the rest of her life, she's going to see the scars and remember what that thing did to her, what I did-" Her voice broke, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She clutched one hand around her other arm compulsively, rubbing up and down against her sleeve.
Dean noticed the gesture, and quickly realized the implication: it wasn't just new scars that were on her mind."C'mere," he said, putting a firm arm around her and pulling her to him.
Devi stood stiffly against him for a moment, unwilling to let herself be comforted. She didn't deserve it. Everything she had done for the last two months, that she had justified as hunting evil, now seemed tainted.
Dean's voice broke through her self-recrimination. "I understand," he said quietly. Something about the simple honesty of the statement, with all the emotional weight behind it, disarmed her, and she leaned against him.
"This job," he went on, "it messes everything up – what you thought you knew, what you were sure of – but you can't cling to this kind of stuff. If you do, it'll eat you whole." He craned his head back, trying to catch her eye. "Listen to me – you have been doing everything you could to save people from an actual 'fate worse than death.'"
"I was so focused on the people making deals, I wasn't even thinking about the ones being possessed," Devi mumbled into the shoulder of his jacket.
"You didn't think you could do anything for them," Dean pressed. "You didn't know. Now that you do, you'll try to do better." He placed a hand atop her head, gently tilting it back so her face turned up. "Right?"
Devi still looked despondent, but no longer seemed quite as lost. She took a deep breath, sniffed, and wiped her eyes. Dean gallantly pretended not to notice.
"Can you give me a copy of that exorcism?" she asked.
"Sure," Dean nodded. "Let's get back inside, though. It's freezing out here." He turned back toward the warehouse, his arm still protectively around her. Just as they reached it, the door swung open, and Sam stumped out, the canvas bag on one arm and holding the staggering women with the other.
Dean took the bag from his brother, leaving the younger Winchester free to focus on helping the woman to the car. "We should get her to an E.R.," he said, pulling up a map on his phone. He glanced back, and saw Devi wasn't following. "You coming or what?"
"Maybe I shouldn't," she answered, watching as Sam helped their former captive into the back of the Impala.
"You can't let something like this slow you down," Dean shook his head. "Now, c'mon – back on the horse."
Devi chewed her lip thoughtfully, but ultimately got in the car. The woman sat quietly with her head lolled against the side of the car, staring sightlessly out the window. It wasn't until they were pulling into Ann Arundel that she spoke.
"What do I tell them?" Her voice was soft and scratchy, as if disused. Devi wondered how long it had been since the woman had spoken as herself.
Dean sighed, working the steering wheel with his hands. "Tell them you fell in with a cult," he suggested at last. "You were able to escape, but you got injured; you don't remember where you were or how you got here." He looked over his shoulder at her, and Devi saw for the first time how tired he was. "You probably shouldn't mention demons – doesn't go over too well."
The woman nodded dazedly, shifting awkwardly out of the car. They watched to be sure she reached the door.
"So," Dean swiveled back to Sam, "what's a 'Westin'?"
"Uh, high-end chain of hotels, the one here is back over by the Academy," Sam rattled off. "Oh, that's weird... It's right across from the National Cemetery."
Dean grinned tightly, "Awesome."
