Chapter Ten: In Which the Author Uses Takeoffs and Landings as a Metaphor
"Mom," said a small, suddenly very strained voice, "how high do planes go?"
Mary looked down at her ten year old son, who had gone a shade Mary could only describe as pale green. She reached out and took his hand. Normally, Dean would have protested. Mary knew something was wrong when he latched on to her hand.
"It's going to be all right, sweetheart," Mary reassured him, giving his hand a tight squeeze.
On her other side, Sam had pulled the SkyMall magazine out of the seat in front of him. Mary wasn't sure how many of the words her son was picking up on, but hopefully the pictures would keep him preoccupied until they were done with takeoff. The plane started to rumble beneath them. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and leaned back into the seat.
"We're just taxi-ing," Mary said, patting the back of his hand. "No takeoff yet."
He muttered something under his breath that made Mary whack him lightly on the arm. Where had he even heard that? She was going to have to have a chat with Bobby.
"Can't they just do it?" Dean grumbled. "I'm getting old here."
"Can we get a king tent?"
Mary turned to tell Sam that no, honey, we're not buying anything from SkyMall. The plane started to move a bit faster. Dean's grip tightened on her hand.
"Tell me we're still taxi-ing."
"We're still taxi-ing," Sam said, surprisingly cheeky for a first grader.
Mary was going to have to scold him for antagonizing his brother later, but she was a bit preoccupied for the moment.
"Doing all right?" she asked.
"Yeah." Then, "No."
Mary looked over at her son, white faced and knuckled. He probably thought he was a bit too old for this sort of thing, but it was worth a shot. Mary hummed the opening strain of Hey Jude.
He looked irritated at first and then the front wheels left the ground. Mary got through the song twice before he was calm enough to stop.
/
Seven months to Hell
No one but Mary and Dean knew about Dean's deal, so it was no wonder when the first thing Jo did when she saw him was try to shoot Sam.
"Whoa! Whoa, we can explain!"
Jo's aim dropped only fractionally. She glared at Dean in the suspicious way that only a Harvelle could pull off. Before he or Mom could jump in, Ellen and Bobby had appeared behind her, both armed to the teeth. Dean didn't really have time to ponder where Bobby had managed to get his hands on a rocket launcher, nor did he really want to know. Jo reached into her pocket and pulled out the knife she was always waving around, her dad's.
"Give me your arm."
Dean sighed and held it out, allowing her to slide it across the top of his skin. He made a low hiss, but other than that, was entirely unaffected. She pocketed the knife and then reached for a flask of holy water.
He'd never liked getting splashed in the face.
"It's really you."
Jo's shotgun dropped to her side, Bobby's rocket launcher vanished to wherever he had pulled that out of, and Ellen pocketed her handgun. Cautiously, the three stepped back from the door and allowed Mary, Sam and Dean inside.
"Radio silence for five months and suddenly you want a chat and a drink," Bobby grumbled under his breath.
Jo crossed her arms. "What's up with that? Last thing we heard, you two opened up the Devil's Gate and Sam was dead."
She cast Sam a suspicious look. Not that Dean could blame her—if the dead started walking around him, he'd be suspicious, too. They all would have been killed long ago if they didn't have those instincts.
Dean looked over to Mom, but she merely nodded at him to tell the story instead. He sighed and turned to the three expectant faces. Jo, leaning forward almost out of her chair, chin resting on her hand, propped up on her knee. Ellen, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed across her chest. Bobby standing behind Ellen's chair, rocking restlessly from side to side.
"I made a deal."
Bobby swore more colorfully than he ever had in his life. Ellen quickly got up and walked into the kitchen, probably to pour them all a drink. Jo launched herself out of her chair and to Dean's surprise, wrapped him up in a bear hug.
"We're not gonna let it happen," she told him fiercely, taking a step back. "No way."
Somehow, he didn't think it was something they could control.
/
Six months to Hell
Six months exactly from Sam's death. Six months exactly from Dean's deal. Two years exactly from Jess's death. Twenty-four years exactly from John's death. Thirty-four years exactly since Mom and Dad's deaths. Thirty-four years exactly since her own deal.
November 2nd was not Mary's favorite day. So, without a word to anyone else, she snagged Dean from the council being hosted in Bobby's living room and dragged him out to her van. She didn't have a clear idea of where they were going. All she knew is that she had to get out of that house.
Bobby and Ellen and Jo were indispensable. They'd been willing to forget everything about their own lives, drop everything to help her save her son. She was immeasurably grateful, but she had to have her own space for just a little while.
"What are we doing?"
"Living a little," Mary said, tugging Dean out of the car.
The bar was not the seediest place in town, but it wasn't exactly a five star resort either. Regardless, it was a place where she knew no one. Mary had loved that from her brief time living in Wichita. She had been able to step out in the city and become something else. On the road, she was the strange woman who always managed to order the last slice of pie, rolling into town at the first sign of trouble and rolling out when it was over. On the job, she was the leader, the woman who was going to save your lives if you just listened to her. Among hunters she was Mary Campbell, the last of her line and perfectly willing to end yours if you said something about it. But living in her apartment, she was just Mary Winchester, the quiet woman next door who never had sugar if you needed it but always had salt to spare. Here, she was just a mother taking her son out for a well-earned drink.
"You have that look on your face again," Dean noted once their drinks were served.
"What look?"
His mouth twisted. "Like I'm gonna shatter if you look at me the wrong way."
Mary winced. She couldn't help it. She could either tiptoe around the issue or plow directly through it, and Dean was tired out plowing through it. He'd much rather pretend he had time left.
"I'm sorry."
He took a long sip. Mary patted him gently on the arm. He felt solid beneath her fingers, real, as if he wouldn't be gone in six month's time.
"I don't want you to fall apart when I'm gone."
Mary flinched. Hearing it so bluntly hurt.
"You don't have to worry about me, Dean. God knows that's the last thing you should be worried about."
"I don't want you to jump ship," he said as if he hadn't heard her. "I don't want you to check out like you did after Dad. Sam can't take that."
After John died, she'd been a mess. That very night, she'd driven all the way to South Dakota in a haze of grief and fury. She'd left Sam and Dean with an utterly clueless Bobby and taken off on a road trip to kill any and all supernatural creatures that she came across.
She'd meant to be gone for a week. She hadn't come back for four months.
Mary forced a tight smile. "Of course not."
They drank in silence for a few minutes. Mary tried not to stare at him too intently. Part of her honestly believed that between the six of them, they would find a way. The other part wanted to soak up as much of her son as she could in the time they had left.
"Dean?" she asked. "You have six months to live. So stop making awkward eye contact with that guy up at the bar and go talk to him already."
He choked on his drink. "I'm not—Mom—"
She waved her hand. "Save it for someone who cares. I'll be in the car."
/
Three months to Hell
Nine months down, and they were no closer to saving Dean. Sam couldn't control the fact that his brother had sold his soul for him. But maybe he could fix it.
For once, all of the save-Dean-from-Hell team was asleep at once. Mary had finally dragged herself upstairs to an actual bed and passed out immediately. Ellen was dozing in one of the armchairs. Bobby had fallen asleep over one of his spellbooks. Jo and Dean had been watching a Star Trek marathon.
Sam snuck out of the house, grabbed the keys to Mary's van (knowing that if he touched Ellen's truck, Dean's car or any of Bobby's clunkers he was signing his own death warrant) and headed for the nearest crossroads. He found one only about three miles from Bobby's house.
Not wasting any time, he drew a quick devil's trap and then placed a summoning box in the ground in the center and took three large steps back until he was standing outside of the sigil.
"Well, if it isn't Sam Winchester."
The woman strode forward until they were only inches apart, separated only by the devil's trap on the ground. She tilted her head to the side and considered him.
"I think I know why you're here," she said, clucking her tongue. "And I'm afraid I can't give it to you."
"Why not?" Sam snapped. "My soul for his. It's a fair trade."
He couldn't live with the knowledge that Dean had died for him. It wasn't fair. At least this way, everything would be the way it was supposed to be. He would be dead and his brother would be alive and there would be no deal.
"I don't want time. Do it right now."
"I can't."
"Can't, or won't?"
"Can't. Someone else has your brother's contract."
"Who?"
The demon opened her mouth but before she could say a word, a knifepoint appeared in her chest. Sam stumbled back a few steps, eyes wide as she dropped to her knees and then her face in the dirt.
"Sam, you're more trouble than you're worth."
"Ruby?"
The demon smirked at him. "The one and only."
She wiped the knife blade on her jeans and looked down at the demon's body with a scowl.
"You killed her."
"Yeah. Like my magic knife?"
Sam stared at it. It didn't look much different than any of the knives that Jo was fond of aside from the runes carved into the blade and its handle. Despite being pretty well-versed in weird symbols, he didn't recognize any of them.
"Where'd you get that?"
Ruby shook her head. "Can't reveal everything behind the curtain."
Sam looked down at the lifeless body. The only downside he could see was that the demon's host had been killed as well. Still, the demon wouldn't go on to possess another body. By killing one, Ruby had saved countless others.
"She was going to tell me who has Dean's contract," he snapped, forgetting the revelation that something other than the Colt could kill demons for a moment.
"That's actually what I came to tell you. Word is, it's Lilith."
/
Two months to Hell.
Everyone had their own way of coping.
He and Bobby spent afternoons underneath the hoods of various cars, tinkering. They didn't talk. That wasn't Bobby's way, and it definitely wasn't Dean's. Instead, they just worked side by side, neither avoiding the subject or dealing with it.
Ellen seemed bent on cooking with him. Dean found that he actually liked it quite a bit. He followed her instructions to a 't'. He actually had a natural affinity for it, much to his surprise. Both Mom and Sam were hopeless unless they were boiling something or rolling a pie crust.
He and Jo spent endless hours at Bobby's homemade shooting range, talking about anything but the deal. They trained until they never missed a shot and then just kept going.
Sam and Mom kept dragging him out every so often. They'd play pool anywhere they could, Sam playing the drunk idiot who couldn't play his way out of a paper bag, Mary coaching him terribly from the sidelines while trying to distract the opposite players and Dean the overprotective brother trying to drag him out of the game. They made a killing, and sometimes, he almost forgot.
/
Twelve hours to Hell
"I got it!"
Mary looked up from her book. Bobby punched the air and held the book up in the air with his other hand. The living room burst into life. Ellen pulled Sam into a tight hug. Jo gave a loud shriek and started dancing. Mary grabbed both Dean's shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze. For the first time in nearly three months, she let herself hope again.
"What is it?" Ellen asked, looking down at the odd contraption that Bobby had assembled in front of him.
Mary didn't even recognize half of the herbs he'd incorporated into it, even with her extensive plant knowledge. Bobby nodded at the map placed beneath the device.
"It'll tell us where Lilith is holed up."
He gave the pendulum a light tap and started chanting lightly under his breath. Mary caught about half of what he was saying, his lips were moving so fast. She leaned closer alongside Ellen as the pendulum came to a halt.
"New Harmony, Indiana."
Without another word, the room burst into a flurry of activity. Bobby shoved his chair back and started to pull on his jacket. Ellen threw open a rucksack Bobby had lying around and started tossing spell books and English translations in seemingly at random. Jo pulled open a drawer and started selecting knives and tucking them away. Mary rifled through her purse and made sure that she had everything that she would need.
"Wait!"
Dean. Everyone in the room turned to look at him.
"I don't want all of you to—"
Bobby said what they were all thinking. "No argument, boy. We're going, and that's final."
/
Eight hours to Hell
No one felt like driving on their own, so they had all piled into a spare van sitting around in Bobby's junkyard that Jo had immediately nicknamed the Mystery Machine. They all settled in for the long haul. Without any stops aside from gas, they could get to New Hope in eleven hours. Mary drove more recklessly than she ever had in her life.
Dean sat in the passenger side. Every few moments, he would jump. Mary had read plenty about demon deals over the past few months. She knew enough to guess that he was hallucinating. In the second row of seats, Ellen and Bobby sat quietly conferring, sketching out a battle plan with an aerial view of the town printed out back at Bobby's. Sam and Jo had staked out the last row. Sam was staring intently at the back of Ellen's head, lost in thought. Jo spun her knife absently in her fingers.
"Strangers waiting. Up and down the boulevard and shadows searching in the night."
The entire car looked over at Dean, half singing, half humming as he looked out the window. Mary reached forward and hesitantly turned the dial on the radio. Getting the hint, Sam joined in, then Mary herself. Jo belted her heart out the moment she was certain she knew all the words, then Ellen and finally Bobby.
The car filled with their ridiculous attempt to match any of the pitches. Dean, his halfhearted attempt growing louder but continuously less in key. Sam, who Mary was suddenly very glad she hadn't pushed into trying out for the school musical. Jo, who had substituted 'actually listening to everyone else' for 'scream and hope for the best'. Ellen, rolling her eyes like they were the stupidest people in the world but actually managing to carry the tune. Bobby, gravelly voice stumbling over the pitches. Mary grinned and stepped on the gas.
/
One hour to Hell
"And I thought you were stupid before you did this."
Sam whipped around, the others on his heel. Ruby crossed her arms and leaned back on her heels.
"Don't," he snapped, before Bobby could make a move. Then, "What do you want?"
"Oh, I don't know. You not to be an idiot and get yourself killed."
Sam could feel Mom's eyes burning into the back of his heads, her words ("No demons!") echoing almost as an afterthought. He hadn't summoned Ruby since he'd found out Lilith's name, but that didn't mean he hadn't thought about it. This, though, was not his fault.
"Yeah? Give me the knife."
"Please. You want to go after Lilith with this? I thought we agreed no dying on your part." She glanced down at the handle. "Of course, there's a better way."
The group behind him shifted. Mom took a half step in front of Dean. Ellen pulled Jo entirely behind her. And Bobby seemed completely preoccupied with the sprinkler system.
"What better way?"
"Lilith is scared stiff of you, Sam. There's a reason she hasn't tried to kill you. You've got talent."
Sam stiffened. "What kind of talent?"
Before Ruby could answer, the sprinkler system leapt to life. She screamed and lurched back a few steps, throwing her arms up to shield her face. In the process, her knife dropped to the ground. Mom dove for it.
"Sam!" Ruby shouted, utterly enraged, but she was too late.
Mom grabbed him by the shoulder and tugged him back to the front door of the house that Lilith had chosen. Bobby broke the lock and together, the group rushed inside.
"Split up?" Ellen asked, looking outside. "There's more where she came from."
Ellen, Bobby and Jo elected to stay on the ground floor as lookouts as Dean, Sam and Mom went upstairs to search for Lilith. Sam kept taking glances at his brother, who was growing paler by the minute. They didn't have much time.
Mom wielding the demon-killing knife and leading the way, they made their way upstairs. Sam took up the rear and Dean tried to pretend that he didn't notice that they had sandwiched him in between them. Sam kept turning Ruby's words over in his mind. What power did he have that he didn't know about? What had Azazel done to him?
"Sam."
As Mary moved ahead upstairs, Dean suddenly gripped him by the shoulder. He'd never seen his brother look this scared before, but Dean's voice didn't shake as he spoke.
"This isn't going to work."
"Dean—"
"You know it, I know it. The only one who doesn't? Mom."
Sam looked up at the retreating form of his mother, trying to scout ahead. Deep down, he knew Dean was right. They weren't going to kill Lilith with Ruby's knife. They weren't going to kill her with whatever power he did or didn't have. They were going to lose and Dean was going to die and—
"Sam. Listen to me."
Sam tore himself from his train of thought with great difficulty.
"You're going to let me go. You're going to grab Mom and Bobby and Jo and Ellen and you're going to get out of here. I'm not going to let you lose yourself to save me. Promise me you won't let any of them do something stupid."
Before he could say anything, they were interrupted.
"Hello."
A little girl stood in the entryway to one of the bedrooms. Dean sucked in a deep breath behind him, but Sam didn't need that to tell him that she wasn't human. There was something about the way she seemed to stare straight at him yet straight past him at the same time.
"I've been waiting a very long time to meet you, Sam," she said, taking a step towards him.
Sam held up Ruby's knife, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to hurt the little girl. Lilith smiled at him, her eyes flashing white.
"Did she give you that? Oh, I'll have to deal with her later." She turned to Mom, keeping her voice conversational. "Has anyone ever told you that your sons are lovely? This one's soul—exquisite."
/
One minute to Hell
Mary launched herself forward, an inhuman snarl tearing itself from her throat but an invisible force kept her from actually touching the demon. She fought against it with all her might and Lilith smirked.
"Ruby said you wanted me," Sam said. "Well, here I am. Let Dean go."
With a wave of Lilith's hand, Mary went flying against one wall and Dean against the other. Only Sam remained standing, pinned in place by the same force that had prevented Mary from ripping Lilith's throat out.
"If you want to deal, you have to have something I want," Lilith told him softly.
Downstairs, the grandfather clock started to chime. Mary fought in vain. Across the room, she met Dean's eye. The stoic front he'd been putting up all night slowly started to crumble as she watched.
"Come on, boy!" she called out.
Neither Sam or Mary could see the creature that tore across the hardwood floors. The only sign that the hellhound was there was the scratches that ripped up the wood. The hold Lilith had on Dean and Mary dropped, but it was much too late for her to get to her son's side.
"Dean!" she screamed, voice breaking.
He cried out once, twice and then he couldn't anymore. Mary watched in utter horror as claw marks made their way down his sides, his stomach, his chest.
"Stop it!" Sam shouted, but Lilith merely smiled.
It was an eternity before Dean stopped fighting back. Mary's stomach twisted and then tried to empty itself. She'd been too worried all day to eat, so all that happened was a dry heave.
Lilith raised her hand. Sam threw himself across the room and shielded Mary from whatever was coming. White light filled the room. Mary squeezed her eyes shut and allowed her son to fold her into his chest.
"How...?"
Lilith stared down at her palm as if someone had burned her. Without agreeing on anything, Mary handed the knife off to Sam. He advanced on Lilith, hatred etched in every line of his features.
"Back," Lilith ordered, but Sam just kept coming. "I said back!"
"I don't think so."
Lilith's head wrenched back and black smoke poured from her mouth. Sam futilely tried to stab at it. The little girl collapsed on the ground, but Mary couldn't focus on her. The only thing she could see was Dean.
"Sweetheart?"
She staggered over to his side and fell to her knees. She was half-aware of Sam kneeling beside her, but all she could see was the blood and the claw marks and—
"No. Please. Come on, Dean, it's just a few scratches. Please!"
She pulled his head into her lap. Sam buried his face in her shoulder and sobbed.
He didn't look peaceful. Death never was. People who said otherwise lied to themselves. But if she closed her eyes, it was easy to pretend that he'd fallen asleep.
Voice wavering, she sang. "Hey Jude."