*
"So you think you can take me on, Angel?" The AntiChrist's mocking voice carries through the air and Anna backs up a step, needing to finish healing Sam but unable to turn her back on the monster in front of her.
"Castiel!" She cries without turning, "Heal the Lamb!"
The flutter of wings behind her offers proof her order is being carried out.
"Give Dean back and we'll let you go back to hell where you belong." Anna offers softly.
A startled laugh, "You're trying to make a deal? Over this piece of meat? Why? What is he to you, holy witch?"
"Give him back or I will take him. If I take him, you will die. I will make sure of it."
Dean glares down at her in fury, "You threaten me? Do you know who I am?"
"You refuse the offer?"
In answer, Dean grabs her arm, his flesh crawling as he touches the saintly skin, pulling her close to him, face snarling into hers, "I'm not going anywhere."
He tightens his grip, baring his teeth at her, "But you are."
Suddenly, his hand is behind her head, fingers twisting into her hair, yanking her head back, exposing the soft milky neck, and he battens down on her, teeth sinking deep into her throat, piercing the skin and jugular, a splash of blood spraying into his mouth, sending his senses into overload and he loses control, his need for the taste of it overwhelming him, his eyes glowing with greedy hunger.
With a fierce growl, he drinks; lips smeared with heart's blood, slurping noisily as it pumps into his mouth, his head dizzy with the mix of strength and fear that fill his head and his mind.
Anna doesn't fight, couldn't get away if she tried but she doesn't try, simply hangs there, letting him drink his fill and when he finally jerks his head back, taking a whooping breath, raising his head towards the sky, his mouth dripping with her life force, she strikes, her hand coming up, fingernails at the ready and slices him across the face, across the eyes, trying to blind him.
Agonized pain rips into his cheek and eye and he screams, dropping her heavily to the ground, staggering backward, wiping his face with a hand, looking incredulously at the blood that stares back at him. Confused, still intoxicated with his feeding, his reaction time is sluggish, almost lazy. He holds out his hand to her, looking at her with a hurt expression, as if unable to believe that she would hurt him after they shared blood.
Anna lunges forward and slashes out again, across Dean's other cheek and eye, slicing ribbons with her nails, cutting him deep, blood dripping and his slowness is gone, the AntiChrist is back in real time and seriously pissed, rearing back his head, howling in pain, cursing her with every breath and he shoves her back away from him, bringing both of his hands together to concentrate his power into one force.
It surges out of him, a physical slash, an ethereal hand stretching out, towards the angel, penetrating her chest, jabbing into her with a fury borne of the Unholy Son's pain and rage.
She jerks back, her whole body lifting into the air, held there by the AntiChrist's powerful force, her muscles rigid as he searches her soul, reaching deep into her, giving a triumphant cry as he finds the glow surrounding her heart, pulsing with blinding light.
It's her grace, beating with her pulse, shimmering inside of her with innate goodness and beauty, white and pure, clean and whole and Dean grips it tightly in his ghostly fist, burning his mind because to touch such goodness, such purity with evilness such as his is an abomination, a tragedy that roils and seethes, bubbles and burns, swirling with fire and hate.
Anna's body jerks and dances as evil and goodness war for control inside of her, her grace and the Lion's blackened core fighting, trying to cast the other out. Each essence begins to consume the other, melding them together into a river of atrocity, of repugnance, trying to rip the other from existence.
Anna's human shell can no longer withstand the strain inside, her blood pressure rising to dangerous levels and suddenly, her cells begin to burst, all over her body, and she's bleeding out, hemorrhaging, blood erupting from every orifice, the gash in her neck gushing out to spill on the ground.
Dean yanks his mind out of her body at the last second, wrenching the grace out of her and holding it, glowing and pulsing, in his hand, shoving it into her face in triumph as she falls to her knees before him, her meat suit already dead, her angelic form dying fast.
With a tremulous gasp, Anna's heavenly spirit sighs, knowing the end is coming soon, shivering in the face of her dissolution, her annihilation, and she teeters on her knees, weakened, barely able to stay upright.
The AntiChrist watches her, laughing, taunting her with the grace he holds, knowing it is her only path to salvation and holding it just out of her reach.
Kneel before me, angel! Die knowing that I am the End of Days, I am the Lion, I am the One who will rule over Hell on Earth! Die in awe of my majesty, my power, my glory! You have failed, angel. You will die knowing you have failed your Father.
Anna looks up at him, smiling in the face of her death and pushes forward a thought with her mind.
Oh, but I haven't failed.
Anna's angelic form moves with the speed of light, launching herself at Dean, flying through the air at him, grabbing the hand that cups her essence, pulling it from him and gripping it, hugging it tightly to her chest, flying into Dean's corporeal body, his frame jerking backwards with the force of the hit.
Once inside, she frantically searches him, grasping at memories, at dead dreams, probing into corners and shadows and finally, through a shroud of red, she finds Him, the Lion, feral and putrid, beckoning to her, challenging her to try to exorcise him.
She doesn't falter, doesn't wait because even a small hesitation will be the end of her, instead, she charges ahead, throwing her mind around the Evil One, enveloping him in her grace, swaddling him like an evil babe, wrapping the blinding light of goodness around his vile, unholy stench.
He screams at the pure light, the glory surrounding him sizzling into him, searing his soul with splendor, with righteousness, melting his skin, fusing to it and he struggles with the majesty of golden chains that hold him down. The more he fights to free himself, the tighter it wraps to him, cleaving him away from his host, isolating him, imprisoning his evilness in magnificence.
Anna grips one of her hands tightly, holding onto the rest of her grace and he sees her clutch it, sneering at her, lips twisted in an evil slash as he claws at her and at himself, trying to wrestle the grace that isn't covering him from her hands. He knows he can send her into oblivion if he can just get the other part she's holding, but when he finally wrenches her palms apart, he sees nothing and for a few precious seconds, he is surprised, unable to move.
Anna seizes the moment and grabs him, yanking hard, once, twice, and with a mighty jerk, they emerge, Angel and AntiChrist, both shimmering specters, flying out of Dean's body and smashing onto the road behind him, both fighting for power, both trying to rip the other apart.
The grace has been separated, one-half enveloping the AntiChrist, the other half still inside of Dean, working it's way into the memories, the lost hopes, the forgotten dreams, those pieces of Dean that had made him so willing to torment in hell, healing, knitting, reawakening the promises, the love that is so well hidden inside of him.
Dean is left, an empty shell, on his hands and knees on the ground, sweating, trembling, retching with dry heaves, body shaking, muscles twitching, shell-shocked, the look on his face scared to death, not knowing where he is or who he is.
Bobby runs to Dean and drops on his knees next to him, pulling the confused young man into his arms and hugging tightly, holding on when Dean tries to struggle away, murmuring soothing sounds against the boy's head and squeezing his own eyes shut against sudden tears, "I got you, son. I got you."
Lucifer bursts out of his circle of protection, reaching out towards Anna with a clawed hand, gripping her across the distance, holding her so the AntiChrist can get control and take her down, take her out.
Satan bares his fangs at the angel, snarling as he shoots his power at her and she turns, hit suddenly, falling to the ground in agony, being battered into the pavement by invisible blows, writhing in pain until, finally, she moves no more.
Death takes the angel quietly and Anna's soul is welcomed back into her Father's home, the King of Kings eagerly awaiting her return to heaven after her unselfish sacrifice. Her specter rises above, twisting and spinning, lifting high above them all, carried in the gentle palm of the Finisher and she is brought Home for good, the other angels watching her ascension with awe and reverence.
Below, Lucifer is blasted with an immense PUSH, the force of it shooting daggers that penetrate his mind, making his body twist and jolt with the painful echoes. Sapphire eyes go wide, looking for the source of the enormous power and there is Sam, fresh from being healed by Castiel, stalking forward to stand directly in front of him, daring him to respond, and drawing the devil's attention away from Dean and away from the others.
Lucifer's wrath will be brought down on him and him alone.
The evil voice filters into Sam's mind. You dare to challenge me?
Sam reaches forward and beckons with one hand, Show me what you got.
Sam looks back just once, tossing an order over his shoulder to the angels waiting there, "Kill the AntiChrist!"
They surround the Evil One, falling on him with their holy weapons, spearing and stabbing, hammering and pounding until he's screaming out in fear and pain, bewildered at how quickly he fell from power.
"Father, Help me!" his voice, once so majestic, so powerful, is tremulous and weakened by the grace wrapped around him.
His essence begins to shimmer and fade, his power pushing at the angels, desperately trying to keep them at bay but he cannot, there's too many of them and his power is sapped, drained and the holy warriors keep coming, surging forward, ripping the Lion to pieces until there's little left of him and what is left can be ground underfoot and returned to the wind.
"NOOOO!!!" Satan's unearthly shriek, high-pitched and desolate, rends the air, shattering car and house windows, glass exploding everywhere and Bobby and Pamela clap hands over ears, trying to stop their eardrums from bursting.
Even Dean reacts, grabbing his throbbing head, rolling away from Bobby into a fetal position, curled up on the pavement, as he tries to protect his ears from the impossible keening.
Sam looks around, surprised to see the others in such agony at the tone of the high decibel sounds. It doesn't hurt Sam at all but he has to stop it because he must protect the humans.
He reaches out his force towards Lucifer, slashing his hand in the air and abruptly, the sound stops and Satan grabs at his throat, evil eyes bulging as he struggles to scream and he cannot.
"Be quiet." Sam growls.
You, a mere mortal, dare to silence me!
Lucifer roars, his power erupting, shooting a fireball out of his mouth, engulfing Sam in a haze of flame, burning his flesh and trying to melt his soul out of his body. Sam stands erect, ablaze, arms outstretched, face and body sliding together as he burns.
"Sam!" Bobby runs forward and Lucifer slashes out, knocking him back onto the pavement, continuing to hold Sam as he burns, flesh smoldering and sparks rising into the air above the flames.
Sam doesn't cry out, doesn't make any noise except the sizzle and pop that comes from his burning flesh and the sickening sweet odor of blackened skin fills the nostrils and turns the stomach.
Everywhere is silence, the angels, Bobby, Pamela and Dean all watch in silence, holding vigil around Sam's body, the darkness of what's happening gripping them, bringing every thought, every action to a dead stop, breath held, fear numbing their senses, waiting…
Suddenly, the fire goes out and Sam is there, whole and unburned, not a mark on his skin, as if he was never touched by flame.
No, that's impossible! Lucifer denies what his eyes can plainly see.
Sam takes a step forward and PUSHES all of his power at Satan, slapping the Dark Lord backwards and holding him easily. Thunder rolls overhead and Lucifer raises a hand to the sky, twisting his wrist with a quick snap, hitting Sam with such force the younger Winchester is knocked off his feet and sent reeling back and before he can recover, a mighty wind rises in front of him, funnel cloud twirling and twisting, enveloping him in its fury and beating him backwards.
Sam is unable to get his footing in the screaming wind and falls to his knees, struggling to get back upright.
Kneel down before your new Father and embrace the evil that's within you.
Sam's body is rigid, holding himself tensely, fighting the wind back with his mind but it's too strong, and he can't do a damn thing with the weight pressing him down.
"Never!" Sam shouts into the gale, trying to get his aura back around him but it's swirling in the wind and he can't get up, even though he sees the evil son of a bitch advancing but Sam can't move and damn if he's going down like this, not even a blaze of glory but freaking wind.
Lucifer comes closer, sneering at the Lamb's weakness. Your God! The Great I Am! Where is your Messiah now? He leaves you all suffering here while he watches. He sends a boy to do a man's job.
Satan leans in tight, I'm gonna kill you nice and slow, Sam Winchester.
With a strangled cry, a blur of movement jumps in between Sam and Lucifer, catching the evil Father by the shoulders and spinning Him around, using the momentum to swing the Destroyer in another half-circle, whirling close to one of the giant fissures that the Apocalypse opened, the flames still licking and shooting up around the edges, the hell fires still blazing eternally.
The figures teeter precariously on the edge of the opening and Sam sees who it is, hears the scream first in his mind and then bursting out of his throat, terror in his heart, "DEAN, NO!!!"
Dean doesn't even try to push Satan into the pit. Nope. Doesn't even try.
Instead, he stares straight into the face of the Dragon, the most vile of all evil and screams out into the night, into the face of the Reaper, "Look at me, you evil bastard! I'm the one that's sending your ass back to hell!"
Dean gives one final pull with his arms, swinging the fetid wickedness around in front of him and jumping forward, using his body weight to carry the Serpent over the edge, diving down into the flames, the fires of eternal torment, dragging the Evil One back home where he belongs.
Both figures disappear over the edge, into the dark pit below.
*