A/N Special thanks going to my beta's katriel1987 for volunteering to complete the horrible task of turning my ramblings into something readable and to Merisha for the occasional gentle prod and providing the spit to make it shiny. Any mistakes are of course my own.
DISCLAIMER TYPE THINGY:- Eric Kripke owns everything Supernatural. I'll put them all back when I've finished, I promise.
The Unusual Suspects
Chapter Ten
"Are you sure you did it right? " Dean finally blurted out after they'd waited, and then waited a little longer. Unable to contain his restlessness, he cast around, looking for signs that something - anything - was actually happening.
The summoning ritual had taken Sam all of two minutes to perform, which included the time he had spent struggling to light the damp sage, at least ten minutes prior.
Sam didn't respond. He just stood, hands jambed in his jeans front pockets, shoulders hunched against the coolness of the evening air, unblinking, staring at the hex as he waited.
Hellfire, lightening bolts or hails of flaming brimstone would have been welcome, just to break the tedium.
"How much longer do we have to wait?" Dean asked, fidgeting impatiently, unaware that his brother was becoming more uptight with each passing minute.
Sam looked dramatically at his watch and, said caustically, "Three minutes and forty-five seconds." He bit his tongue, admonishing himself as his brother threw him an imperious eyebrow raise. He was tense, and taking it out on Dean. "Sorry, I don't know. It'll be here soon enough, I guess." He was more than ready, fresh batteries where in his flashlight and the spare, two copies of the Roman exorcism ritual were safe inside plastic wallets. He had strewn enough salt that the ground glistened as though there had been an early frost, and a loaded shotgun nestled in his bag. He patted his jacket pockets, reassuring himself that the holy water was close at hand, the stick of chalk resting innocently in the back pocket of his jeans.
The last of the daylight was fading rapidly, red-streaked clouds scuttling across the sky as the northerly breeze blew fitfully. It was still light enough for Sam to keep an eye on his brother without being too obvious, he hoped. Dean was standing opposite him, near the back door of the cabin, occasionally touching his palm and the small gash on his head. Sam had grave concerns over Deans presence at the exorcism, but other than sedating him and locking him in the motel room, he really had no choice other than to keep a very watchful eye on his brother.
"You don't have a headache or anything, do you?" Sam asked, when Dean touched his forehead again.
"For crying out loud Sam, you must've asked me that a hundred times already. I promise, if I get so much as a twinge, I'll tell you." A glower briefly slipped over Dean's features, so fleetingly that Sam wasn't sure if he'd seen it, but he suddenly felt sick to his stomach.
Small beads of perspiration broke out across Dean's top lip; he was feeling very warm, pulling at the collar of his t-shirt uncomfortably. "Listen Sam," he forced himself to say. "If I hear voices in my head, you'll be the first to know."
"Actually you'll be the first to know, I'll be the second." Sam smiled trying to take the sting out of his words. "What exactly did Kane say to you?" He was still missing gaps of information.
"He told me he had to 'correct' those men. Take away what didn't belong." He remembered that Sam had been correcting him recently, too, he frowned at the thought.
"So why you? Why was he...?" Sam seemed reluctant to say the word.
"Trying to crucify me?" Dean finished in a callous tone, one eyebrow lifting "He was jealous." Come to think of it, was Sam jealous of him? After all, it had chosen him, just plain o'l Dean and not wonderful Mister 174 LSAT's, college boy Sammy.
Sam raised his eyebrows.
"He said I was perfect." The smile Dean attempted slid off his face. He really wasn't feeling so good. He swallowed hard. His ears buzzed, and he felt sick. Hardly surprising, since he'd been bashed on the head a couple too many times recently. And to add insult to injury he did seem to have a dull ache settling behind his eyes, but, he'd convinced himself that it definitely wasn't a headache. More likely stress, yeah, stress made a lot more sense.
"So, any clues as to what this big bad's gonna look like?" He didn't particularly care what the spirit looked like, but he made himself ask anyway because Sam appeared happier when he was chattering at him inanely. He was feeling far too hot now, and just itching to take his jacket off, but Sam was spying on his every move. He brushed his hand over the back of his neck irritably as the short hairs bristled. He had the feeling someone was watching him from behind, peering at him unseen from the black windows of the cabin sending another sharp shiver down his spine.
"It's everything that man's ever feared since climbing down from the treetops, rolled into one bad-ass spirit." Sam said unsmiling. "It's your worst nightmare"
Movement out of the corner of Sam's eye caught his attention. He blinked hard. The ground below the hex appeared to heave, as though something were being pushed from beneath the surface. His arms prickled with goose bumps as if icy fingers were brushing over his arm, and he gave an involuntary shudder.
"Dean. Look" Sam pointed towards the hex with his flashlight as he ground bulged and undulated, staggering on his feet as the earth below him shuddered again.
"It's here," he whispered as a black, oily substance began seeping through soil at the center of the hexagram. It ran purposely into the markings, as though following a pre-ordained course. The air above the hex wavered in a haze of heat, and the hairs on Sam's entire body stood on end as static energy charged the air.
"Shine the light over here, Dean." Sam said as he grabbed the chalk from his pocket. With deliberate, practiced strokes, he began to draw the anti-cursal hex symbols around the outside of the hexagram.
A deep rumble shook the ground, and Sam, who had been crouching down to finish the arcane symbols, overbalanced and landed on his backside, hard. He cursed and shuffled backwards as a viscous glob of black goo rose from the ground to form a dome. Though no more than three inches tall at its highest point, it covered the entire area of the hexagram. Holy shit, that couldn't be good.
"Crap. Dean?" No answer. What the hell was Dean doing? He certainly wasn't helping.
"Goddammit Dean. What are you waiting for, an invitation?" Sam swore and glanced up towards his brother.
Sam's eye widened in shock. Dean was just standing there, transfixed in the same spot, oblivious to the world around him. Blood pouring from his nose in sickening red rivulets, staring at the black goo, which pulsated and began to grow, pushing through the ground in an ever-increasing bubble.
"Shit. Dean c'mon, fight it. Fight it for me!" Sam shouted at his brother's frozen form, before scrambling back to his feet and quickly finished drawing the symbols. He snatched the Roman ritual from his bag, fighting the urge to check on his brother as he began the exorcism.
"Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis," he read aloud. He quickly glanced at his brother again.
Dean shuddered. Every word Sam spoke sent a new spasm of pain through his body. Why would Sam do that to him? Couldn't he see what he was doing? Realization became just as painful, Sam was doing this deliberately, Sam wanted to hurt him.
"Et in noimine Jesu Christi Filii ejus, Domini et Judicis nostri ...,"
Sam paused when Dean groaned in anguish, his knees buckling for an instant before straightening again. He'd succeeded in summoning Choronzon's spirit, but he couldn't stop now, not half way through the ceremony, not even for his brother.
" Et in virtute Spiritus Sancti, ut discedas ab hoc plasmate Dei..."
Dean could hear sounds, originating from inside the black bubble; then he heard a cry like a trapped animal shrieking in pain. Then the pitch changed to a woman screaming. The sound surging through his brain and making his ears ring painfully.
"Quod Dominus noster ad templum sanctum..."
It was a child, a child screaming in agony. Dean clapped his hands over his ears; the sound becoming unbearable, and his brother was causing it. Jealous. Controlling. Sam
"Suum vocare dignatus est, ut fiat templum Dei vivi, et Spiritus Sanctus..."
"Sam, stop." Dean gasped. He couldn't catch his breath. It hurt, god it hurt. "Please." He was suffocating, and Sam was just looking at him, laughing with delight.
Sam stumbled over his words when his brothers scream unexpectedly echoed in the night air, a sound like nothing he'd ever heard before. He'd heard Dean cry out in pain too many times to count, but this shriek made his blood run cold. Dean was screaming as though his soul was being ripped from his body. Sam started to move towards his stricken brother, who was desperately clutching at the sides of his head, but stopped in his tracks as the ground trembled and a geyser of obsidian blackness rose in a tall column. Twelve feet high, covering the circumference of the hexagram, twisting and rotating on it's own axis, like an evil totem pole.
Sam stood awestruck as he watched the black obelisk rotate. Multiple voices came from within the darkness, whispering so lowly that Sam couldn't make out what they were saying. But he heard one voice rise above the indistinct mumblings: his brother's voice, begging him to stop.
"Snap out of it Dean ... please" Sam begged as he shook his brother gently. Dean was spellbound by the black geyser. "C'mon back to me, man." Sam cajoled, and reached out to his brother. He tried to steer Dean away from the obelisk, which was putting off scorching heat that threatened to singe their hair.
Sam's face was twisted in rage, he was snarling. Dean watched, fixated, as Sam's lips quivered to reveal his teeth, and then a growl issued from deep within Sam's chest. Dean recoiled as Sam snapped at him, teeth clicking together where Dean's nose had been a fraction of a second earlier. Fear coursed through him as he pushed his brother hard on the chest, knocking Sam back and away from him.
"What the hell?" Sam said as he stumbled back, still feeling the pressure of Dean's hands on his chest.
Somewhere in his subconscious Dean knew what he was seeing couldn't possibly be happening, because Sam was changing in front of his eyes, face elongating into a distinct muzzle. It wasn't real, couldn't be real, but he was looking at it, seeing with his own eyes. His attention was drawn away from that terrible face, turning again as the sounds from the obelisk swelled, becoming clearer; whatever was inside the maelstrom was dragging itself closer to the physical world. Dean knew then, with absolute certainty, that the creature in front of him wasn't Sam. Whatever he or it was, it was there to stop him and he also knew that whatever it took, he had to get the the obelisk.
"Dean, no," Sam shouted as his brother walked like a marionette toward the pillar.
It was hot, too hot, but Dean had to reach out and touch it. It needed him; it called to him, he wouldn't fail it, not liked he had failed Sam. The hairs on the back of his hand singed as he continued to reach forward, faces swirled in the blackness, terrible visages twisted in torment, calling out to him, begging him to join them. It was irresistible.
The Sam creature grabbed him, spinning him round and pushing him away from the place he needed to be. He landed hard, hitting the ground with force, and something dug painfully into the small of his back. He scrambled back to his feet as the creature that used to be his brother advanced. The thing drooled, its teeth chattering together as its legs elongated, forcing it to drop to all fours. What the hell was happening ... "Sam." Dean called out weakly, all remaining vestiges of reasoning finally slipping away as the creature stalked him. Then something was in his hand, something familiar and comforting lay nestled in his palm - his .35. He had no memory of taking the gun from the back of his jeans, no memory of automatically pointing it at the thing that used to be his brother, and aiming it at its head.
Sam stood stock still as the gun shook in his brother's outstretched hand. Dean didn't seem to actually be looking at him anymore, his terrified gaze had moved to something a lot closer to the ground than himself.
It called Dean; he could feel the power of the obelisk flowing through him as the air throbbed and pulsed. Something was trying to emerge; he could feel it, and he welcomed it.
Sam lunged with unexpected speed as soon as Dean's attention was pulled back to the swirling pillar. Grabbing Dean from behind, Sam pinned his brother's arms to his sides. He felt the muscles in Dean's right arm flex, and heard the click of the hammer as Dean pulled the trigger of the empty gun, which pointed uselessly at the ground.
Dean twisted and ducked under the creature's hold and pushed on its chest with all his strength. Throwing the useless gun at the creature's head, he swung with his fists at the thing that used to be his brother.
Sam ducked as the gun flew over his head, and then, in a heartbeat, his brother was upon him. He yelped in pain as Dean blindly lashed out and caught his already injured arm. He shielded his arm the best he could while fending off his brother's attack, until Dean grabbed him, spun him around and caught him by the neck, making him gag.
Dean held the creature's head in an arm lock. Flexing his arm muscles and tightening his chokehold around its neck.
Sam scrabbled at Dean's arm, tearing at the material of his shirt sleeve. He didn't want to hurt Dean, but his brother was attempting to throttle the life out of him.
The sound of a door crashing open and voices raised in alarm distracted Dean from his deadly task.
Sam straightened, and taking advantage of the confusion, rammed his elbow hard into his brother's ribs as a wizened, shrieking figure ran between them. Its arms flailing at impossible angles as it streaked towards the black pillar. Sam heard Dean shout in pain as he landed on the ground a few feet away, but Sam's attention was on Kane, the man had completely lost it, and was running towards the maelstrom laughing maniacally.
"Kane, no!" Sam cried, and lunged after Kane, attempting to stop him as he launched himself at the black pillar. The heat was too intense. Sam felt his skin blister on the top of his hand, and quickly pulled it back. Kane disappeared into the geyser, sucked inside with a sickening wet noise.
"SAM!," Missouri screamed, standing near the back door in her stocking feet, her face an image of absolute fright.
"Get back inside," Sam shouted hoarsely, rubbing at his sore throat with one hand and pointing to the door with the other. He needed her out of harms way right now.
"His arms, Sam, he broke both arms to escape." Missouri cried, tears spilling down her cheeks. Sam could only guess what she'd witnessed in Kane's desperate attempts to escape his bonds.
Bob appeared behind Missouri, an awed expression fixed on his face as he stared at the pillar of darkness. "Bob, get her back inside," Sam ordered. "GO!." He yelled when Bob hesitated. The last thing he needed was Bob being drawn into the battle, he had his hands full enough already. He watched as Bob finally dragged his eyes away, placing a protective arm around Missouri's shoulders, and guiding her quickly back inside the cabin.
"Dean?" Sam looked at his fallen brother, he hadn't moved, and his heart instantly started hammering in his chest. He didn't know whether Dean was conscious or not. He wanted desperately to check but he had to finish the exorcism before it was too late.
Sam's hands shook as he picked up the exorcism ritual. He glanced at the pillar again, which spun faster, bulging out in uneven shapes as something inside struggled to get out. He felt dizzy as he watched it, his mind clouding, suddenly strangely excited by the thought of the demon within. It called to him, beckoning him, drawing him to it. He wanted to take a step forward but managed to stop himself.
"NO!"
Shaking his head he pushed the demented thoughts from his mind.
"Habitet in eo. Per eumdem Christum Dominum nostrum."
A pulse of raw energy emanated from the maelstrom, almost knocking Sam off his feet. He staggered, trying to keep his balance. The voices were screaming at him, the very air surrounding him rushing past with the intensity of a freight train derailing.
"Qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos," he shouted above the clamor.
And then dead silence.
Sam hadn't finished the exorcism. That shouldn't have happened.
"Et saeculum per ignem." He continued hesitantly. Something was wrong, very wrong. The obelisk had stopped spinning, but it still towered overhead. Sam shied away, quickly covering his head, as the black tower shimmered and emitted a blast of steaming heat before collapsing in on itself, rending a split across the ground from one side of the hex to the other. Definitely not a good sign.
Kane's burnt and twisted body lay curled in a tight ball in the center of the hexagram, amidst the now-viscous substance. The smell of scorched flesh making him want to hurl, instead he leaned over coughing violently.
Sam paced, covering his mouth, unsure what to do next. Dean was still lying spread-eagled on his back near the cabin. Should he go to him, or complete the exorcism? The question soon answered itself as Kane began to twitch. His skin was charred black, and parts of his skull and leg bones now poked through his burnt flesh. He couldn't still be alive, could he? Surely it wasn't possible? Yet, to Sam's horror, he was moving.
Kane's legs straightened with the sound of an old leather book being opened after years of storage. His burnt clothing fell away in tatters as he turned onto his front. His tightened skin split open on the backs of his knees, revealing cooked muscle. His broken arms bent in the wrong places as he somehow managed to move them in front of his body.
Sam was drawn towards Kane as he struggled to move towards the cabin. He gagged again as the strong stench of cooked flesh seeped into his nostrils. Swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat, he reached out towards the dying man, wandering sickly if he should just shoot him to put him out of his misery.
Kane's back suddenly arched away from the ground, shaking off the loose, blackened clothing, stripping off melted material that clung to his body, welded to his burnt skin.
Sam stared in repulsion as a fluid-filled blister rose from Kane's shoulders all the way down to his buttocks. The blister grew until it was as long as Kane's body and twice as fat. It looked like a giant, fluid-filled maggot lying in the dirt.
Sam's eyes widened as the maggot pulsated and jerked, and finally, slowly, it rolled away from Kane's now raw and still body.
That was when Sam understood.
Kane was the host.
He had delivered Choronzon.
TBC