Previously: The gang is trying to kill an Ifrit (fire monster) so they can use its ashes to poison Eve. Sam and Dean are inside a fire (wearing fireman's gear) when it shows up, but they need to wait until it's corporeal to shoot it with the Colt. A person can only see the Ifrit if they have suffered at the hands of a fire so Dean can see it (because of his Mom) but it turns out memories aren't enough since Sam (being soulless) can't see it. The fire monster attacks Dean.
Suddenly the thing was rushing towards Dean, the roar of the fire sounding more animalistic than the usual movement of air and crackling of burning material. He fired three shots straight at it and was aware enough to realize they were going right through the thing before it was on him, knocking him off his feet with a blast of searing heat and energy.
CHAPTER 21 – We Are Each Other's Weakness
Dean hit the ground hard, what little air he had in his lungs rushing out of him on impact. The creature within the fire formed into a spinning tornado a few feet above him, its black abyss of a mouth open in a silent scream. The force of it dislodged some of the heavy burning timbers from the pile they had built-up around the soul eater, sending them in Dean's direction. He threw his arms up as they came crashing down on top of him and managed to deflect them enough to avoid the brunt of it but his leg and hip were struck hard and his mask was knocked off.
A searing pain immediately tore at his throat and lungs when he sucked in a gulp of smoke-filled air and cried out in pain. His voice cut out and he fought for breath while struggling to free himself from the burning debris. He wasn't having much success with either and found himself firmly wedged between two railway ties, coughing into his sleeve in a fit of painful choking wheezes.
Suddenly the heavy railway tie was lifting off him and a strong hand fisted in his jacket, yanking him to his feet.
"Sam?" he croaked, shocked as hell that his soulless brother had taken the time to come to his aid.
"Yeah, I gotcha," Sam replied, his voice muffled by his mask. He kicked a scorched log out of the way and pulled Dean completely free of the burning rubble.
They staggered a few steps back away from the searing heat of the flames, Dean gripping tightly to Sam's jacket for support. "Try not to cough," he heard Sam say. "You're forcing more smoke into your lungs. Breathe shallow." Dean nodded and worked on gaining control over the excruciating task of breathing. Easier said than done and he was still struggling for air when Sam removed his mask and placed it over Dean's face.
Dean sucked in a few mouthfuls of cleaner air, trying to concentrate on clearing his lungs while his eyes searched frantically for the Ifrit and his mind spun with speculation as to what Sam's motives were here. Sam didn't care about him; about anything. So why was he risking his own life helping Dean and even sharing his mask? Was there a tiny bit of Sammy left in there after all? Something redeeming? Something work saving?
Please let there be something left!
Sam took the mask back for a few breaths then returned it for Dean to take a few, trading it back and forth as the younger brother heaved him forward. Dean assumed they were heading towards the exit, considering how out-of-control the fire was and the injured state he was in with his hurt leg. He had stifled the choking reflex by the time he noticed Sam had the Colt in his hand - Dean hadn't even realized he'd dropped it. He looked up to see they weren't headed for the exit but instead had moved deeper into the building, around the burning circle to the far side where the flames had worked faster and the stacked wooden pallets were burned low enough to see inside the round makeshift prison.
"Where is it?" Sam asked him. "Can you see it?" He raised the Colt. "I need you to tell me where it is."
Crap. Sam was thinking of completing the mission and nothing more. He needed Dean to tell him where the Ifrit was so he could shoot it.
The soul eater was inside the circle, engulfed in flames, screaming and flailing its arms around. Sam's fist wrapped tighter in Dean's jacket.
"Dean! Can you see it?" he shouted urgently. "The soul eater's dying! It should be feeding now! Dean?"
Dean forced his focus back to the task at hand, trying to quell the grief tearing at him anew at the mere sight of his brother. He gritted his teeth and looked around at the flames, which were now engulfing the far wall behind them and pretty much everything Dean could see. There was no swirling mass moving differently within them, no gaping maw, no white flaming eyes staring at him.
He shook his head. "I don't see it. It's not fucking here... wait!" Behind the soul eater, a shape was advancing. It was fire but not dancing in the air like it had presented itself before. Instead it appeared more stable, more solid, and it was reaching a fiery arm out towards the dying soul eater. "Behind him!" Dean yelled, pointing. "Behind the sou..."
His voice choked before he finished but Sam got the point. The younger hunter let go of his hold on Dean to fire two shots right past the soul eater. "Did I get it?"
Dean shook his head and answered between coughs. "To the right."
Sam fired again.
"To the right. Couple more feet."
He saw Sam's eyes narrow behind the mask he was wearing. "Last shot," he hissed, raising the gun again. "Work with me here, Dean."
Dean reached out and tugged the barrel of the old revolver towards him a few inches, adjusting his brother's aim before nodding. Sam fired without hesitation or doubt. Clearly having no soul hadn't affected his trust in Dean's hunting skills or their ability to work well together.
The Ifrit flamed up brightly, an ear-piercing scream escaping its lipless mouth that even Sam could hear. Both brothers cringed at the sound and Sam gave Dean a hopeful look.
"I got it, right?"
"Damn straight," Dean rasped, unaware a smirk was plastered on his face. He had wrapped his hand in his brother's sleeve to hold himself upright.
"Is that its ashes?" Sam demanded, pointing to what was left of the Ifrit behind the now-still, blazing body of the soul eater, a neat mound of grey ash.
"Yeah," Dean confirmed.
Without another word, Sam shrugged Dean off him and stepped inside the circle, over the smouldering embers of the clearer spot they had fired through. Without the additional support, Dean collapsed to the floor again, setting off another fit of wracking coughs. He could barely make out Sam's silhouette, squatting down inside the circle, presumably scooping up the ashes of the Ifrit into the container they had brought in.
In the minute that followed, Dean struggled to his hands and knees but the smoke grew even thicker and the visibility was virtually zero. Without a mask, he couldn't breathe nor see and had absolutely no idea at this point where the exit was. He thought about crawling in a random direction and hoping for a door but it went against his every fibre to leave his brother, despite everything. Maybe if he waited here, Sam would stop for him and help him out? Maybe... as long as helping him didn't interfere with the mission...
He didn't really believe that. His usefulness was over. So he was surprised a second time when hands were suddenly gripping him and tugging him to his feet.
"Sam," he rasped, trying to see his brother's face through the smoke and intense heat.
He saw a large, strangely shaped object looming over him. Blue eyes blinked back at him through a slit in what Dean thought might be a water-soaked coat wrapped around a head. Familiar blue eyes, he realized, and yes, that looked like a beige trench coat around his rescuer's head.
"Cas?"
The head nodded. "Come on; we have to get out of here before the whole place collapses on us." The voice was muffled through the sodden jacket but Cas's deep tone was unmistakable.
"What about Sam?"
Cas slung Dean's arm over his shoulder. "Just passed him on the way out. He has the container."
"Son of a bitch," Dean mumbled before his voice was lost in a choking breath of smoke.
They were both coughing by the time they reached the exit. In fact, the first gulp of clean air sent Dean into yet another fit of gasps and wheezes. Cas kept moving, half-carrying him over to Ellen's Jeep before shrugging him off and seating him on the tailgate. Dean's eyes were burning so badly he could hardly see but he could make out Ellen in front of him, placing an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. He barely felt the prick of a needle as she gave him some meds to help reduce the swelling in his airway. He could hear Sam wheezing from somewhere a few feet away and Tasha's voice calling from a distance.
He finally gained control over his breathing and his vision started to clear. He looked up to see Ellen's very concerned face peering at him, her hand still holding the mask over his mouth. He nodded his thanks and glanced past her.
Sam was on his knees on the ground, alone, holding the other oxygen mask over his own mouth and nose. Jo was hovering behind her mother, helping Cas remove the sodden coat from his head.
He turned his gaze towards Tasha's voice, it seeming strange she wasn't all over him by this point. She was standing by the Impala looking freaked and pissed at the same time. That was when he noticed her right wrist was handcuffed to the door handle. It didn't take him any time to figure out Bobby must have done that to keep her from running inside the burning building.
He found himself both horrified and blown away at the implication. To be loved like that - the way she loved him, the way he loved his family - was something he had always wanted. Craved. Needed. But some stubborn part of him still didn't believe he deserved that kind of devotion and it scared him.
He let out a quick chuckle that turned into a cough and pulled the mask off his face, giving the Harvelles a black-faced grin. "Bobby?" he questioned, jerking his head towards the restrained brunette.
Ellen shook her head. "Nope, that was Cas." She stood aside to reveal Bobby lying on the ground behind them, eyes closed. "Bobby was worse than her."
Dean's eyes widened and he moved to get off the tailgate and rush over to the older hunter but Ellen put a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him in place. "He'll be fine," she assured him. "I just gave him a little bump on the head."
"Yeah, they're so totally gonna have their first fight when he wakes up," Jo snickered, heading over to uncuff Tasha.
"Oh it won't be our first," Ellen assured her daughter. "Besides, he's all bark and no bite." A sly smile spread across her face. "Well, he does bite, just not in the bad way. Actually..."
"Ewww! TMI Mom!" Jo exclaimed, her mouth twisted in an expression of disgust. Dean broke out into another hacking fit and quickly put the mask back on his face.
Ellen just laughed.
"Maybe we should get you checked out at a hospital," Tasha interrupted, oblivious to any light-hearted conversation going on. She was suddenly at Dean's side, pulling at a rip in his jeans.
Dean looked down at his leg and for the first time, realized he was bleeding. His hip and his chest hurt like hell but he had figured it was just bruising. Tasha split the denim on his thigh wide open to reveal a nasty cut with multiple splinters poking out of the ragged, torn skin.
"Crap," Dean mumbled, starting to feel the pain now that the adrenaline rush was subsiding. Well that would explain why he had been having trouble walking.
The smile disappeared from Ellen's face. "I'll get that cleaned," she said, her voice all business again. "Then we best be high-tailing it outta here. Someone's bound to see the smoke eventually.
Dean had forgotten about the burning building behind them, despite the loud cracking and splitting sounds and the rumble of parts collapsing. He looked up to see Cas approaching, holding Sam's ash container in his hands.
Good thinking, he thought, glad the ex-angel had used Sam's recovery time to take the canister from him. Sam might split and try to take Eve out on his own if they didn't keep their hands on the weapon.
Sam was sitting back on his haunches now, his breathing steady though his face was smeared with black. Cas came to stand by Dean with a nervous expression on his face.
"Thanks Cas," Dean said with genuine gratitude but Cas simply nodded, his gaze fixing instead on Tasha.
"I suppose you're going to be mad at me for some time now for handcuffing you to the vehicle?" Cas asked her, his voice even raspier than usual and his wet hair plastered to his forehead.
She swallowed and to Dean's surprise, shook her head. "No," she said quietly. She shot a quick glance at Dean before looking back to Cas. "Thank you. For getting him out of there."
Glad he was mostly hidden by the oxygen mask, Dean smiled. He had known she would come around and warm up to Cas again eventually. He was grateful Cas knew her well enough to foresee the need to physically restrain her under the circumstances. She wouldn't have had the strength to haul him out of there so quickly and he shuddered to think what would have happened then.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of Bobby stirring and a sharp jolt of pain from where Ellen was pulling at a large splinter in his leg. "Oh, motherfu...!" The elder Harvelle's disapproving frown was enough to make him clamp his mouth shut, finishing his outburst in the form of a strained growl.
Bobby groaned in unison with Dean and sat up, his hand automatically moving to rub the back of his neck. He looked around, his eyes searching out both Sam and Dean and his shoulders visibly relaxed when he took in that they were both alive and well.
"What the hell happened?" he mumbled, accepting Jo's hand as help up off the ground.
Dean saw Ellen throw a sly smile in Cas's direction. "No idea, you old fool," she said fondly, never stopping her work cleaning Dean's leg wound. "You went charging in and musta bumped your head on the doorframe. Don't you remember?"
Bobby let out n indignant snort, clearly not pleased with himself for being so clumsy. "Did we at least get the sonofabitch?"
Cas held up the container just as Sam came to stand next to him.
"One full can of Ifrit ashes," Sam answered for him, apparently taking no offense he hadn't been checked out or nursed by the ladies like both Dean and Cas had. "Now let's go kill the Mother."
~x~x~x~x~x~x~
Turned out Ellen was even better than Bobby at patching up wounds because, although Dean got a couple of stitches in his leg where the biggest of the splinters had been removed, there was no sign of infection and two days later he was walking on it without a noticeable limp. His breathing had eventually lost that underlying wheeze and after two days of being the 'patient', he had finally been able to do his own share of the work this morning when Nurse Natasha had insisted on giving him another 'check-up'.
Upon the group's return to their borrowed deluxe cabin, it was agreed that Sam no longer needed to be locked up in the wine cellar. The Colt and the Ifrit's ashes were well hidden and Dean was certain Sam wouldn't try anything or leave without them. Tasha had been the only one against it but had given up her argument fairly quickly when she realized she was alone. Dean had caught her later having an unusually intense conversation with Jo in the kitchen. The two women had clammed up immediately upon his arrival, Jo giving Tasha a reassuring "I'll be careful, okay?" before heading outside.
The hunters had spent the time searching for clues to where they could find Eve. There was plenty of evidence of where she had been, stories coming in from all over the country of potential demon kills. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be anything subtle about the Mother of All and quite a few of the incidents sported a high death toll, a lot of whom were surely collateral damage. They had summoned Crowley but even the King of Hell hadn't been able to get a line on her whereabouts, though he did seem impressed at the group's progress and even commented that he considered them the 'winning horse'.
Cas had also repeatedly tried to contact Balthazar but still no reply. There were no more reports of angel deaths so apparently Michael's total recall to Heaven had been obeyed to the last angel. At least Eve seemed to be concentrating on demons for the time being, though nobody doubted humans would be her next target. Once again the fate of the world seemed to be resting on the shoulders of the Winchesters and company.
Late evening on the third night, Bobby snapped his phone shut and threw it across the table in frustration. "Balls," he growled. "Bitch took out ten people in Michigan this afternoon but she's long gone now. We need to figure out where she's going before she fucking gets there!"
There were nods of agreement all round then Jo's eyes suddenly widened and she leaned forward, elbows on the table. "What we need..." she said slowly, "is bait."
"What are you getting at, hon?" Ellen asked, a wary look on her face.
"Demons," Jo said bluntly. "She's seeking them out. We round a few up..."
Cas sat up straight on the couch, his interest clearly piqued. "Yes, a trap."
Ellen frowned. "That would be like leading lambs to the slaughter," she pointed out. "There are people inside those demons, remember? Eve doesn't exorcise, she kills." She turned towards her daughter, deep creases of disappointment on her forehead. "I would expect that barbaric suggestion from Sam. Not you."
"Jo's right," Sam chimed in.
The blonde rolled her eyes at him. "You agreeing with me isn't helping my case," she said irritably.
"No, she is right," Dean agreed reluctantly. "Ellen, I get what you're saying and we used to work that way too. We wouldn't use the Colt or the knife unless we absolutely had to but... but with the stakes getting so fucking high..." He rubbed his fingers across his forehead and grimaced, not liking that these words were even coming out of his mouth. "Now - we see a demon, we kill it. It's the black-eyed bastard who killed the meatsuit when it decided to smoke in there, not us. That person's blood is on them. I mean, if we can get it into a Devil's trap and exorcize a demon, we will, but we don't get that chance that much anymore. If you ask me, demons are acceptable bait, considering the circumstances."
Ellen was quiet for a long moment but, after looking to Bobby for support and finding him quickly averting his eyes, she nodded. "Alright then," she conceded. "But just how do you plan on grabbing enough demons to get her attention and then get them to sit idly by and wait for Eve to walk into our trap?"
It was Sam who had the answer. "Crowley," he said flatly.
"Crowley?" Bobby curled his lip. "He's not going to sacrifice his own soldiers."
"Yeah he will," Sam disagreed. "A few grunts for the greater cause? He definitely will. Honestly, it's what I would do."
"Sam!" Dean glared at what used to be his brother. "Not helping your case."
"Crowley will give us enough demons to use as bait," Cas interceded. "He is King of Hell, after all. And power-hungry. He is driven by greed and arrogance, not loyalty to those beneath him."
"Right then," said Dean, rising to his feet. "Let's summon him again." He went to grab the chalk and the ingredients required to perform the summoning ritual. "And let's get a phone number off him this time huh? So we don't have to keep doing this smelly potion summoning shit."
~x~x~x~x~x~x~
Crowley proved to be quite the convenient ally because he agreed to setup a dozen of his demons as bait without even blinking. In fact, the only price the hunters paid for the favor was a few sarcastic insults aimed at Sam's height and Bobby's wardrobe.
Their harsh reminder that Crowley was playing his own game came a day later when Bobby got wind of a surge of dangerously obvious demonic activity in the next state over. Church congregations being disrupted, people speaking in tongues, even a public demon smoke-out. Dean called the demon to ask if he needed a fucking map drawn up because the plan had been to bring Eve to them, to which Crowley replied that Dean and company were not the only pieces on the King of Hell's chess board. He cut off Dean's angry protest by assuring him that his 'merry little band of hunters' were next in line if Grandpa's attempt failed.
"Fuck!" Dean swore, trying his hardest not to smash his phone to pieces in anger after hanging up. "He's giving Samuel a shot at Eve first!"
Jo tilted her head and gave him a one-shouldered shrug. "Is that such a bad thing?" she questioned. "I mean, it's practically a suicide mission. Better him than us, right?"
"No," Dean answered, his distress evident. "It has to be us! We need to be the ones to do it."
"But if Samuel succeeds, Eve will still be dead," the blonde pointed out.
"Cas's grace," Bobby reminded her quietly. "Sam's soul."
Jo's mouth formed an 'o' shape in apologetic realization but Bobby quickly offered a solution.
"Let's get on over there, then," he said matter-of-factly. "We might have enough time."
Renewed hope flickered across Dean's dark expression and his eyes lit up. "You're right," he agreed quickly. "Let's move."
They were packed and in the cars within minutes. They had been geared up and ready for hours, just waiting on Crowley to send his cannon fodder to town to attract their prey. Their shotgun shells were filled with the Ifrit's ashes and their knives were dipped in hot wax and coated it. Ellen had also dissolved the ash into flasks of juice for them to drink right before facing Eve, just in case.
Dean had frowned at her as she handed him his flask. "Seriously?" he griped. "Is this the best we can come up with to gank this bitch? Try to shoot or stab her and if that doesn't work, let her eat us?"
"That about sums it up," Bobby had chuckled before giving Ellen a frown of his own. "Though I daresay it woulda dissolved just as easy in scotch."
It was a twelve hour drive and they reached Mobely, Missouri just after sunup. Sam and Dean didn't waste any time donning the 'fed' suits and heading to the local police station to try and get some information on exactly where the demons were holed up. The local sheriff was certainly surprised to see them, informing them that the feds had already been sniffing around. Both brothers figured it was most likely the Campbells.
"Yeah, that's just the advance team," Sam acknowledged smoothly. "We worked similar cases in Tennessee and Kentucky so we've been brought in as experts. You wouldn't know by chance where they're staying, would you?"
The sheriff nodded. "Ardell says he saw them over at Wayan's Motor Inn out by the highway."
When no other information the local law officer could give them pointed towards a demon hangout location, the hunters headed to the motel in hopes of finding the Campbells instead. There was no sign of them but the motel clerk told them the 'old bald guy' had asked directions to the closed down automotive plant on Highway DD last night then ten minutes later, the whole group had taken off and hadn't been back since.
In less than half an hour, they were all pulling into the abandoned factory's yard. There were two vans they recognized from the Campbell compound and Samuel's truck parked in the front but no sign of any Campbells. In fact, the outside of the place seemed eerily tranquil and serene so they geared up quickly, each downing their flasks of Ellen's ash-laden juice, and headed inside.
The quietness of the large building was deceptive, a sharp contrast to the horrific scene they found inside. The Campbells were everywhere, one or two at every turn, in every room they entered. All dead. Not just laying in peaceful earthy slumber but torn apart, bloody and maimed with body parts strewn everywhere. They recognized a couple of them from earlier meetings, but most were too ripped up to be recognizable.
"This is that Johnny guy," Sam declared, standing with his hands on his hips over a bloody, legless corpse. The distant cousin to the Winchesters had a gaping hole in his neck also and his face was frozen in an expression of unthinkable terror.
Dean felt Tasha's hand slip into his and squeeze his fingers lightly. "I hope Gwen stayed away from here," she whispered. He stole a sideways glance at her and was mildly surprised at the genuine worry he saw on her face. He had been a bit curious at how smoothly she had seemed to deal with Mark being killed and he realized now that maybe she wasn't as unaffected as she was letting on. She had always managed to remain unattached, able to move on and never look back, claiming that Dean was the first and only exception, but it suddenly became obvious she wasn't as good at it as she pretended to be. She had befriended Gwen years ago and it was clear some ties from that friendship remained.
He squeezed her fingers back. "I'm sure she had the sense to stay away from Samuel after what happened at the diner," he assured her.
She gave him an appreciative smile and they all moved into the next room. They were instantly alert when they heard a noise coming from behind a large piece of machinery and Sam and Dean moved round it to investigate.
They found Christian, lying sprawled on the floor with a vacant look in his eyes and a twitching leg. There was a woman leaning over him, her back to them and her face on his chest. At first it appeared she might be giving him medical aid but became quickly evident she was instead sucking blood from his gaping chest wound. She whirled around to face them when Sam's shadow moved across the floor in front of her. Her face was covered in blood, dark rivets of it streaming down her chin and a lustful, glazed look in her eye.
Sam and Dean instantly raised their shotguns at her. This couldn't be Eve, could it?
The woman rose to her feet. "The Winchesters," she hissed.
Dean gritted his teeth. How did she know who they were? How did everybody always know who they were?
"You Eve?" he demanded.
She laughed. "You mean Mother? Of course not. Although she will be very disappointed to hear she missed you."
"What are you?" Sam demanded. "Vamp? Ghoul?"
She ignored the question and closed her eyes for a second, tilting her head as if she was listening to some unheard voice. The she opened them again and her body tensed. "Mother sends her regards," she spat, lunging suddenly towards them. Sam raised his shotgun to head height and fired, sending an Ifrit ash shotgun round point blank into her face. She fell to the floor instantly, half her head now dripping in wet, red clumps from the metal panel of the equipment next to her.
"I'd say ghoul," Sam observed, watching her as she twitched and spasm'd her way to death at his feet.
But Dean ignored him, already stepping over the monster's body to kneel next to Christian. The guy was a jerk and an asshole and a few days ago, Dean would have derived a great deal of pleasure pummeling his smug face with his fists... but nobody deserved this. He took off his overshirt and balled it up, pressing it down onto the bleeding chest would. "Bobby!" he called over his shoulder, knowing the man's injuries were out of his league. He turned back to Christian.
"Hey man, you still with us?" he asked, trying to get the man's shifting eyes to focus on him. When they finally did, Christian nodded weakly.
Bobby and Ellen were suddenly there, taking over Dean's attempt to stop the bleeding form Christian's chest. Dean let go and shuffled back a couple of feet to let them work, moving to squat next to his head instead. "What happened here?" he pressed.
Christian may have been a jerk but he was apparently one tough son of a bitch as well because even with the extent of his injuries, he made every effort to answer Dean. "Eve," he croaked. "Crowley offered to give us some demons to attract her here and..." He paused to grunt in pain as Ellen cut his shirt open. "Samuel found the scythe. Grim Reaper Death's scythe. It was supposed... ungh... to be able to kill her but... unnnnh, fuck!" His face contorted onto a grimace of pain and he breathed a series of strained, shallow pants for a moment before his eyes locked once again with Dean's. "It didn't work," he panted. "Fucking thing didn't work."
"And Samuel?" Dean pressed. They had found eleven Campbells so far including Christian but none that looked like they could be the family patriarch.
Christian closed his eyes. "He was in the paint shop with Eve," he answered, his voice getting fainter. His head lolled from side to side a couple of times before he managed to get a few last words out. "Think he's dead." He finally succumbed to unconsciousness.
Dean looked at Bobby. "He gonna die?" he asked flatly.
Surprisingly, Bobby shook his head. "He's got a chance if we can get him to a hospital."
Dean nodded. "Okay, you and Ellen take him," he agreed. They hadn't sunk so far as to let a fellow human die, even if he was the douchebag who had kidnapped Tasha, handed her over to Crowley, threatened and taunted Dean at every turn, taken the Colt and Ruby's knife from them, and finally, helped hand the Alpha blood to Crowley, knowing the demon was going to use it to open a gate to Purgatory. The guy deserved to die, but Dean wasn't going to become his judge and executioner.
Sam and Dean helped load the unconscious Christian into Ellen's Jeep then came back inside to finish looking around with Cas, Tasha and Jo. They found the paint shop and, just as Christian had indicated, found Samuel there too.
He was alive. Barely and in even worse shape than Christian, but he was alive. He was slumped on the ground with his head cranked up against the wall and his hands clutching his bleeding stomach. It reminded Dean of the first time he had seen Samuel die, also to a stomach wound back in 1973, and he couldn't help but think that may not be a coincidence. He never used to believe in fate and all that crap but sometimes...
Once again he found himself kneeling next to a dying relative, asking about Eve as he peered at what was no-doubt a fatal gut wound.
But Samuel wasn't thinking about Eve. "He promised to bring my Mary back if I killed the Mother," he said, his deep voice barely more than a whisper. "The scythe," he curled his lip, glancing over at a plain-looking scythe on the floor a few feet away. "It didn't work. She didn't flinch. Mary..."
"Mom's fine," Dean found himself assuring his grandfather. "She's staying where she is in heaven."
Samuel gave him a skeptical look. "I shouldn't have trusted Crowley," he growled.
"No shit. But I'll deal with this. I'm gonna kill this Mother bitch."
"You'd better."
Dean was aware he should have known better than to expect a "be careful, Dean" or an "I'm proud of you, son" as the Campbell patriarch's parting words. The guy made John Winchester seem like father of the year. He looked down at his grandfather as the older man took his final ragged breaths.
"Oh, I'll gank the bitch alright," he murmured. "But I'm not doing it for you, you bastard. I'm doing it for my family." He looked around at Sam, Cas, and Tasha as he rose to his feet again. "I'm doing it for them."
~x~x~x~x~x~x~
A/N: So they face Eve next chapter, which is the final one, then there is an epilogue to wrap things up. Thanks for sticking with me this far and I hope you enjoy the ending and don't get too upset at the twist I have planned.
A/N: Point of Interest! FFnet pal of mine (Kissacazador) recently asked SE Hinton (author of The Outsiders and many more) what the correct spelling of 'Cas' is (Cas or Cass). The answer was a definite "Cas". I would say SE Hinton unarguably qualifies as a literary expert so as far as I'm concerned, it's official. It's CAS. Yay! :-)