Chapter Eight

Sorry about the wait. Damn writer's block! And 3 other stories competing for attention! I finally got it! Almost to the end! Enjoy!

Dean glanced over at Angel's laptop, curiosity taking over. He pulled it out and turned it on.

"Damn," Dean muttered. Of course she's got a password.

After two failed attempts, the hint popped up: Family. Figuring it was an alpha-numeric combination and taking a guess, Dean typed in: DSnAWin67. D for Dean, S for Sam, n for and, A for Angel, Win for Winchester, and 67 for the Impala. He pressed 'enter,' and waited for a few seconds before the account opened.

"Well, what do you know," said Dean. "It worked."

He opened up a picture files, and browsed through them. There were a lot of pictures of a little blonde-haired girl laughing. Dean clicked through the pictures. Dean bent over, holding the girl's hands as she took a few steps. Sam and Dean crouched on either side of a high chair with big smiles, a birthday cake with a '2' on it in front of a girl whose face was covered in icing. Dean holding a four-year-old Angel in his arms, with her dressed as Xena and holding a pillowcase for trick-or-treating. Sam kneeling next to a seven-year-old Angel on a blue bicycle. A six-year-old Angel with a blue backpack and lunchbox, supposedly her first day of school. An eight-year-old Angel standing in front of a sign that read 'Six Flags' with Sam and Dean.

Dean clicked on another picture file, and more pictures popped up.

A teenaged Angel sat behind the wheel of the Impala as Dean leaned against the driver's door. Angel dressed in a light blue, spaghetti-strapped dress, her hair pulled up in a ponytail that fell down to her shoulders all curled tightly—must've been when she had longer hair—and standing next to a black-haired young man in a tux. Angel hugging the black-haired man as they smiled at the camera.

What the… thought Dean. Does she have a boyfriend?

Angel holding up a set of keys and standing in front of a beautifully restored, royal blue 1969 Dodge Challenger. Angel in a black cap and gown with a yellow tassel hanging from her neck, standing in between Sam and Dean, who was holding up her diploma.

Holy crap…

It was this graduation photo that got him. Sam's hair had been cut! Not as short as Dean's, no. It fell to the tops of his ears, but no longer. Dean could see a silver ring on Sam's left hand. Sarah was probably the one taking the picture. Dean, on the other hand…Though he'd always had wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, he could now see wrinkles appearing slightly around his dimples. There was also some silver appearing in his sandy hair.

Son of a bitch…I'm old…

He stared at the picture, at his older—48?!—self, appraising his looks.

Well, still managed to reel Jo in, didn't I?

He clicked on another file, shuffling through the photos.

Sam in a tux and Sarah in a white gown, feeding each other pieces of cake.

Dean laughed. 'Atta boy, Sammy.

Dean's head poking out from under the hood of the Impala, grease smeared across his forehead. Sam standing behind Sarah, wrapping his long arms around her very pregnant stomach. Sam standing in a hospital room with a huge smile on his face, holding a baby wrapped in a blue blanket. Dean holding a black-haired, two-year-old boy in his arms, both of them laughing as Dean appeared to spin him around.

Wow, he's got Sam's smile…and his eyes.

Dean giving Jo a kiss under the mistletoe. Johnny opening a Christmas present with Sam and Sarah on the couch in what appeared to be their house, Dean and Jo in two chairs in front of the fireplace, and Angel sitting in front of the Christmas tree and helping Johnny.

Bobby must be taking the picture.

And the last picture was Dean holding up an open ring box, a big smile on his face. The ring was a thin, silver band with a medium-sized diamond on top—not too small, not too big.

It's true, then. I'm about to propose to Jo.

Dean closed the file and pulled up the Word Processor, browsing through the documents. Most looked like school papers, but one name stuck out: "Return to Titanic."

That's her book…

Dean opened the document, glancing at the page count.

115 pages? Wow…And she's not even done…

Dean began reading. Angel had included a dedication, poem and prologue before the actual story. Dean read through the novel. There were some gaps, having not been finished yet, but she was almost done. He noticed certain things in her story: the main character Pearl loved classic rock and '67 Impalas, Pearl's boyfriend's name was Sam, another character was named Chris Dean, and another was named Mary. Dean was surprised to find some tears in his eyes as he finished.

She writes like she was actually there.

The door opened, and Angel and Sam walked in. they spotted Dean's wet eyes.

"What's wrong?" asked Angel, noticing her laptop in front of him.

Dean looked up at her. "This is amazing. You just…damn, you have such a way with words. I mean, it's like you were actually there." He paused, looking back at the computer and up at Angel. "Were you?"

"Was I, what?" asked Angel.

"I mean, with this time-travel thing…did you suddenly wake up to find yourself on the Titanic?"

Angel laughed. "No, actually…But that would be a great way to finish writing my book…"

"Alright," said Dean. "Time to work."

Angel, Sam and Dean sat down in the living room.

"You ready to try this again?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, I think I got a handle on it now," said Angel.

Angel closed her eyes, reaching her mind out past the house once again. She felt energies and minds rush past her as she searched. A spike of pain drove itself through her temple, and she flung her arm out, looking for strength and stability. An arm latched onto her elbow, holding her up.

"I got you," said Dean.

Angel drew on the strength he was offering, wincing as she ignored the pain and pushed on. Her mind suddenly connected with a presence that sent rage, despair and cruelty spiraling through her soul. The presence she was feeling was just about the worst thing she'd ever felt.

It's all mine.

God cannot stop me.

I will win.

Must eradicate the humans.

Free Death…Carthage…

Angel opened her eyes and fell into Dean's arms. She panted for a moment before looking up at her father. "Carthage…He's in Carthage."

"Missouri?" asked Sam. Angel nodded. "What's he doing there?"

"Something about death," said Angel.

"It's gotta be a trap, right?" said Sam.

"You know, trap or no trap, we got a snowball's chance, we gotta take it, right?" said Dean.

"Yeah, I suppose," said Sam.

"Besides, I'm not sure it is a trap," said Dean. "Check it out." He got up, grabbing some research from the table. "I mean, Carthage is lit up like a Christmas tree with Revelation omens. And look at this." He pushed some papers at Sam and Angel. "There's been six missing persons reported in town since Sunday. I think the devil's there."

"Okay," said Sam.

"Look, when you think about it…you can't come with," said Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean."

"Look, I go against Satan and screw the pooch, okay. We've lost a game piece. That we can take. But if you're there, then we are handing the devil's vessel right over to him. That's not smart."

"Since when have we ever done anything smart?"

"I'm serious, Sam."

"So am I. Haven't we learned a damn thing? If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it together. Besides, I promised I would look after Angel. How do I keep that promise if I'm not watching your back to make sure you get back to take care of her?"

Dean looked at the floor. "Okay. But we're gonna need help."

The Impala drove through town, followed by another car. Dean and Sam had their phones out the windows.

"You getting a signal?" asked Sam.

"No, nothing," said Dean. "Nice and spooky." Dean waved the other car up next to him. Ellen Harvelle and her daughter Jo were inside.

"Place seem a little empty to you?" asked Ellen.

"We're gonna go check out the PD," said Dean. "You guys stay here, see if you can find anybody."

"Okay," said Ellen.

Dean drove off, and Ellen parked her car. Jo got out and turned to see Castiel still sitting in the back seat.

"Ever heard of a door handle?" said Jo.

"Of course I have," said Castiel. Jo turned to see him standing beside her. Castiel looked around the deserted street.

"What is it, Cas?" asked Ellen.

"This town's not empty," said Castiel. "Reapers."

"Reapers?" asked Ellen. "As in more than one?"

"They only gather like this at times of great catastrophe," said Castiel. "Chicago Fire, San Francisco Quake, Pompeii. Excuse me, I need to find out why they're here."

Castiel walked off, glancing at the reapers. Jo and Ellen wandered off to search the buildings. About twenty minutes later, the Winchesters were back.

"Station's empty," said Dean.

"So's everything else," said Jo.

"Have you seen Cas?" asked Ellen.

"What?" said Sam. "He was with you."

"Nope," said Ellen. "He went after the reapers."

"Reapers?" asked Angel.

"He saw reapers?" asked Sam. "Where?"

"Well, kind of everywhere," said Jo.

The five of them headed through the town, shotguns in hand and looked around.

"Well, this is great," said Dean. "Been in town twenty minutes and already lost the angel up our sleeve."

"You think, uh, you think Lucifer got him?" asked Sam.

"I don't know what else to think," said Dean.

"He'll be fine," said Angel. "Uncle Cas is strong." Dean and Sam stopped, turning to look at Angel.

"Uncle Cas?" asked Dean.

"What?" said Angel. "He was around a lot when I was little. I took to calling him Uncle Cas. And besides, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have been born."

"How so?" asked Dean.

"He raised you out of hell," said Angel. "If he hadn't done that, I wouldn't be here."

Dean shrugged. "Fair enough."

"There you are," said a female voice. They turned to see a brunette woman standing in the street.

"Do we know you?" called Dean, raising the Colt.

"We go way back," said the woman. "You know, I should have ripped your pretty, pretty face off ages ago."

"Ruby?" asked Dean.

"Try again," said the woman. "Go back further." Dean frowned as she looked at Sam. "Well, I gotta say, it's nice to see you again, Sam. You're much better to look at from the outside."

Sam's eyes widened. "Meg?"

Meg smiled. "Shouldn't have come here, boys."

"Hell, I could say the same thing for you," said Dean.

"Didn't come here alone, Deano," said Meg. Something splashed in a puddle near Meg's feet, and there was growling and barking.

"Hellhounds," growled Dean.

"Yeah, Dean," said Meg. "Your favorite. Come on, boys. My father wants to see you."

"I think we'll pass, thanks," said Sam.

"Your call," said Meg. "You can make this easy or you can make it really, really hard."

Dean looked back, and Ellen nodded. "When have you known us to ever make anything easy?"

Meg shook her head. Dean shifted his aim and fired. Blood spurted from the hellhound next to Meg's feet.

"Run!" Sam yelled.

They took off, but a hellhound tackled Dean.

Jo looked back at him. "Dean!"

"Jo, stay back!" Dean yelled.

Jo fired her shotgun in Dean's direction. Ellen and Sam stopped, looking back. Jo kept firing, knocking the hellhound further and further back.

"No!" Angel suddenly yelled. She flung her hand out, using telekinesis to keep a hellhound from tackling Jo from the side. She also got the hellhound off of Dean. "Run!"

The five of them ran into the nearest store. Sam chained the doors shut while Angel and Dean grabbed bags of rock salt, salting the doorway and windows. Dean spotted a radio, and starting fiddling with it.

"How's it going?" Dean asked Sam a half hour later.

"Salt lines are holding up," said Sam.

"Safe for now," said Dean.

"Safer," said Sam. "Trapped like rats."

"Hey, you heard Meg," said Dean. "Her father's here. This is our one shot, Sammy. We gotta take it, no matter what." The gadget in his hand squeaked. "Here we go." He brought the handheld up to his face. "KC5 Fox Delta Oscar, come in."

"KC5 Fox Delta Oscar, go ahead," Bobby's voice responded.

"Bobby, it's Dean. We got problems."

Bobby sighed. "It's okay, boy. That's why I'm here. Is everyone alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine."

"Okay. Copy that. So now we figure out what we do next. Tell me what you got."

"Before he went missing, did Cas say how many reapers?" asked Bobby.

"I don't—he said a lot of things, I guess," said Dean. "Does the number matter?"

"Devil's in the details, Dean," said Bobby.

Ellen tapped Dean on the shoulder, and Dean held the microphone up for her. "Bobby, it's Ellen. The way he was looking, the number of places Castiel's eyes went, I'd say we're talking over a dozen reapers, probably more."

"I don't like the sound of that," said Bobby.

"Nobody likes the sound of that, Bobby, but what—what does that sound like?" asked Dean.

"It sounds like death, son," said Bobby. "I think Satan's in town to work a ritual. I think he's planning to unleash Death."

"You mean, like, as in this dude and taxes are the only sure thing?"

"As in Death. The horseman. The pale rider in the flesh."

"Unleash? I mean, hasn't Death been tromping all over the place? Hell, I've died several times myself."

"Not this guy. This is—this is the angel of death. Big daddy reaper. They keep this guy chained in a box six hundred feet under. Last time they hauled him up, Noah was building a boat. That's why the place is crawling with reapers. They're waiting on the big boss to show."

"You have any other good news?"

"In a manner of speaking. I been researching Carthage since you've been gone, trying to suss out what the devil might want there. What you just said drops the last piece of the puzzle in place. The angel of death must be brought into this world at midnight through a place of awful carnage. Now, back during the Civil War, there was a battle in Carthage. A battle so intense the soldiers called it the Battle of Hellhole."

"Where'd the massacre go down?"

"On the land of William Jasper's farm."

"Thanks, Bobby. And, how's—"

"She's doing fine. Just put her down for a nap. Nothing wrong."

"Thanks, Bobby."

"Just get Lucifer, ya idjit."

Dean hung the radio up. "Now we know where the devil's gonna be, we know when, and we have the Colt."

"Yeah," said Sam. "We just have to get past eight or so hellhounds and get to the farm by midnight."

"Yeah, and that's after we get Jo and Ellen the hell out of town," said Dean.

"Won't be easy," said Sam.

"What are we, invalids?" said Ellen. "We can take care of ourselves."

"Come on, guys," said Jo. "We got propane, wiring, rock salt, iron nails, everything we need."

"Everything we need?" asked Sam.

"To build a bomb, Sam," said Jo.

"No," said Dean. "Jo, no."

"You got another plan?" asked Jo. "You got any other plan? Those are hellhounds out there, Dean. They've got all of our scents. Those bitches will never stop coming after you. We let the dogs in, you guys hit the roof, make a break for the building next over. I can wait here with my finger on the button, rip those mutts a new one. Or at least get you a few minutes' head start, anyway."

"No, I—I won't let you," said Ellen.

"This is why we're here, right?" said Jo.

"Guys!" Angel spoke up, silencing them all. "All this talk of self-sacrifice is depressing the hell out of me. Why do you think I'm here?"

Dean looked at her. "You can take them?"

"Compared to the idea of icing the devil in a few hours, this is a piece of cake," said Angel.

"I like it," said Dean. "Let's go."

Angel held her hand out, immobilizing the hellhounds. The five of them raced to the roof, climbing down to the street. Angel flung her hand out again, sending a bright wave of light through the street and killing the hellhounds.

"You're kidding me," said Sam. "It was that easy?"

"You'd be surprised," said Angel.

Sam, Dean, Angel, Ellen and Jo snuck through the bushes. Dozens of men stood in the field, attention on something in front of them.

"Guess we know what happened to some of the townspeople," said Dean.

"Okay," said Sam.

"Okay," said Dean.

"Last words?" asked Sam.

Dean looked at the four of them for a moment. "I think I'm good."

"Yeah," said Sam. "Me, too."

"Alright, enough with this chick flick," Angel muttered. "We got work to do."

Dean laughed a little. "Here goes nothing."

Sam stood up from the bushes, approaching Lucifer—who was filling a hole with dirt—through the crowd of demons. He readied a shotgun. "Hey!" Lucifer turned, dropping the shovel. "You wanted to see me?"

"Oh, Sam, you don't need that gun here," said Lucifer. "You know I'd never hurt you. Not really."

"Yeah?" said Angel. "Well, I'd hurt you…so suck it."

Angel spun Lucifer around, slamming her palm to his forehead. Lucifer yelled as his mouth shot open. Angel concentrated, and light began shining out of Lucifer's eyes and mouth. This was her angel powers, but it wasn't enough. Angel winced, straining herself as she employed her psychic powers also. Lucifer began to light up through his chest. His yell grew as the light increased, shooting up into the air. The light diminished, and Lucifer's empty host fell to the ground. Angel collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

"Angel!" Dean yelled, rushing forward. He pulled her into his arms. "Wake up. Come on, baby girl. Wake up for me."

"Dean," said Sam. Dean looked up to see Sam kneeling next to the guy. "He's still alive. But he's in bad shape."

"Let's get them to Bobby's," said Dean.