Chapter 9

Sam looked up from his book when Liz came down the stairs. It was early. Jim and John were passed out still. Dean was clearly not awake. She tossed him a wave and got started on breakfast. After a few minutes, good smells began wafting from the kitchen, calling to Sam's empty stomach. He attempted to help but very quickly realized he was in the way. He sat down to watch her cook. "Liz… I know that the last week or so has been kind of… effed up but do you mind…"

"Ask away." She nodded to him.

"What was he like when he was with you?"

She smiled to herself and sprinkled nuts and chocolate into the batter sizzling on the griddle. "He was very good. Very intense." She flipped and poured and kept talking. "He didn't like me at first. I suppose that he felt I was evil. You were such a cute baby. The way you toddled around after Dean and John. He was… so protective of you boys. It took a week before he was comfortable leaving you alone with me." She took a breath as she flipped Sam his breakfast onto a plate. "He never talked a lot. A lot of heavy silences but… when he did… He loved your mother so much."

"Yeah, so I hear."

"He didn't want this life for you, Sam. He was ready to give it up." She slid plate and a fork to him.

Sam started to negate that sentence when he looked down at his plate. "How'd you know what I liked?"

"Who do you think got you started on these, Sammy?" She grinned and turned back to the stove. "You were such a cute kid. You were running everywhere, started to talk really fast. Every time he saw you, John's eyes just… lit up. He loves you boys to pieces." Her smile broadened. "You and Dean used to watch cartoons on Saturday mornings. Dean had his bowl of cereal and you had yours, sans milk. He would just… sit between you two on the floor. He cursed this cartoon and that cartoon and you would try to feed him because he wasn't eating breakfast in those days. Just coffee."

"He was like that?"

"He had his moods but when he was in a good one, everyone had a good time. Sometimes we managed to give him a good time even when he wasn't in a good mood." She stared into space for a minute. "Jesus, that man was gorgeous when he let himself smile." Her face flushed as she realized she'd said that out loud. "Well, it used to take my breath away."

"Well, last I knew, he was using his smile and his charm for evil."

"To fight evil." She tossed over her shoulder. "There's a difference." She made up three more stacks as she talked. "The man in that other room… he's not the man who seduced me on Thanksgiving." She shrugged. "But it's been twenty years. I highly doubt that Dean gets his jollies stomping on girls' feet anymore. I highly doubt you enjoy naked runs anymore. A lot has changed since I was last here."

"Apparently." He watched her build the stacks of pancakes. "Is it hard to wake up?"

"Every single time. I remember and I always wish that I didn't." She finished setting the table with pancakes and silverware. "Remembering and knowing… makes me wish I felt the call of the demon faster."

"It calls to you?"

"It's how I find it to kill it."

"But it calls to you?"

"Well, I'm sure it doesn't know it's doing it but… it's like a song only… not." She turned to the window. "The song is disjointed in a way that human music is not."

"And you can hear it?"

"Sometimes not until it's almost too late… 252 songs I have silenced. 253 loves I have lost. And I do it… again, and again." She walked out the back door.

--

John rinsed the dishes for the dishwasher. Dean just finishing his breakfast, himself. Jim and Sam had long taken up the books looking for… John didn't know what. It had been tense for days between father and son. All over a woman. John didn't know what to say to him. He never had. All these years since leaving Blue Earth and Liz behind, John hadn't had many talks with his eldest son. Had done enough of them by the time Dean was 7 that there were very few left.

"Well, she's not your sister."

"Yeah, we figured that out. Thanks." Dean muttered, staring at puddles of syrup on his plate. "I can't do this though. I can't be what she wants."

"You mean that she can't be what you want."

"Whichever. She's… it's not going to work because she's going to find a demon to kill, she'll die and in twenty years, she'll be back and she won't remember either of us until it's time to kill something else." Dean stood and dropped his plate in the sink. "I couldn't stand to see her with someone else, twenty years in the future. I don't know how you're doing it."

--

John found Liz curled up in the backseat of the Impala. He opened the door and sat on the other side. "Enjoying being alone?"

"No." she shook her head. "Just… remembering some good times." She stared at his profile when he wouldn't meet her gaze. "You look… different. Older. The beard is new." She scooted closer, cupping his face in her hand to make him look at her. "I am so sorry, John. If I had known… I never would have stayed to begin with."

"If I had known you were going to leave… I never would have let you stay with my boys." He admitted.

"Would you have still pursued me relentlessly?"

"Possibly."

She took a breath and made him look her in the eye. "John, I have to tell you something."

--

Jim studied the words that Liz had written about the chants, prayers and rituals that Elijah may have used to conduct his rites. He felt he was close to something. He studied a bit about the times that Liz alleged to have come from. Marveled at her evolution so seamlessly over time. A lesser willed person might have gone mad long ago. He glanced up when John stumbled in the door. Watched the man go directly to the counter for his bottle of whiskey. Four long swallows straight from the bottle.

--

Dean had just shucked his boots onto the floor when Liz stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. Fresh from a shower and in a quiet mood. "Sammy says you got sick this morning."

"Just a headache." She shrugged him off.

"You hiding today?"

"Thinking."

"Sam told me about the demon song. You heard it yet?"

"Not yet." She slipped under the sheets.

"How do you do it?" He asked as he shucked his jeans and shirt. "I know you said that it's in your blood but how…"

Liz watched his movements carefully. "You don't want to hear about that, Dean."

"Do they go to hell or are they gone?"

"They die. Hell is too good for them. My blood takes them out of this world."

"But how?"

She motioned him closer and stared into those green eyes. "Dean, there are some things I do alone. Killing demons is one of them."

"What are other things you do alone?"

"Well, sleeping alone is not one of them."

--

Dean knew the instant that Liz began hearing the demon song as Sam had called it. He lay awake long after Liz had fallen asleep. Every muscle in her body tensed, her breathing changed. Her eyes fluttered open for a few seconds and then she relaxed but he was certain that she was not asleep. At early dawn, she stirred purposefully. He watched her dress in silence and when she reached for her shoes, he cleared his throat. "How far away is it?"

"It's aiming for me. It knows about me." She turned and gave him a watery smile before walking out the door.

Five minutes passed before Dean decided they needed to follow her. Throwing his clothes on, he banged on the door down the hall. "Let's go, Sammy. Demons are singing." He clomped downstairs and peered out the front window just long enough to see that Liz had stolen the truck and not the Impala. "Pastor Jim! Dad! Let's go. Demons are waiting a slaying!"

Jim was the first one outside with his books. "We're not ready. I need a day more. I'm certain we can break the cycle."

"Do your research in the car, she's gone to kill some evil thing." Dean motioned to the Impala.

"What's her lead?" John rose from the couch with a cracking of knees and back.

"Going on ten minutes soon." Dean held the door open. "Sammy!"

"I'm coming." Sam tramped down the stairs and followed the train out the door. Sam ended up sharing the backseat with his father while Pastor Jim used the rising sun to light his way through his notes. "So, she say where?"

"No. She just took off but I'm following the cloud of smoke left behind by Dad's truck."

"She stole my truck." John shook his head. "Can she reach the pedals?"

"Apparently." Dean took a breath. "I asked her how she did it, how she killed them and she refused to say. Just said that it's her blood that does it."

--

Liz lay bleeding slowly from her neck and arms. Four bodies had dropped when the evil bastards had ripped open her arms upon seizing her. She had done the rite. Using her blood as she said her prayers over the fallen bodies. The bodies cooled around her as their demons had been killed and were no longer animate. Her neck throbbed. She couldn't remember exactly what she had fallen against that had cut her so deep but it was only a matter of time before the white light took her.

Her vision blacked out but the white light still hadn't appeared. She heard a voice. Mocking, taunting. She managed to move slightly before the light appeared. Felt the world go still around her and then it was still. Quiet.

TBC