Chapter 36

Liberty

I could hear them coming before they came. I could hear everything now, and it was really loud, all the time. Momma tried to tell me that this would happen, and that it had happened to her when she was my age, but I didn't understand what she had been talking about.

I did now.

Glory and Faith were still crying and I tried to stop and tried to get control of myself, but feeling what they felt is something that happened a lot now. Everett sat on the broken arm of the couch as Auntie Lucky tried to calm down Faith, but I knew she wasn't hungry or wet. She could hear them, too. We all could.

"Uncle Sammy," I said, pulling on his sleeve, trying to get his attention away from the babies and Glory. "There are demons coming." Uncle Sammy looked down at me and I knew that look. He gave that look to Daddy a lot. He didn't believe me. "You have to believe me," I pleaded. "It's why Faith started crying. She can hear them too."

Uncle Sammy bent down to be eye level with me and I could feel Auntie Lucky's eyes on my back. "How do you know?" he asked. "Did you see them?"

"I can hear them," I said, talking quietly. "I can hear everything now. It's like a light switch got turned on. I can barely hear you, even though you're sitting right next to me."

Uncle Sammy threw a look over my head and I knew he was talking to Auntie Luck without saying anything out loud. Momma and Daddy did that all the time too. While he was down at my level, I reached out to touch his face and I knew he was seeing what I wanted him to see while his eyes focused on something far off. I showed him the big towers of black smoke that came from the ground while Momma, Daddy, and Uncle Cas were fighting the witches. I showed him how they were flying over the country, trying to get to our house as fast as they could.

As the scene ended in my head, Uncle Sammy's eyes flicked to mine and I knew he believed me. "Okay, kiddo," he whispered. "Okay." He stood quickly and turned to Aunt Lucky, saying, "Lib saw demons," he whispered, trying not to freak out Everett, but I knew he already knew. "They're coming."

"What?" Auntie Lucky said, standing suddenly as she still held my baby sister. "Here?"

Uncle Sam nodded and glanced back at me. "Panic room," he said, pointing downstairs to Jody's apartment. "I'll gather up everyone else." He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "How much time do we have, Lib?"

I shook my head and shrugged. "I don't know," I replied. "I don't know how fast they can fly."

Uncle Sammy turned and ran up the stairs and I could hear him thudding through our bedrooms. Auntie Luck was running to the gun safe that Daddy had in the dining room and trying to spin the knob to open it. She tried twice and looked up, towards the second story and shouted, "Sam, what's the combination? Did Dean change it?"

From upstairs, Uncle Sammy answered her, "I thought it was Lib's birthday!"

Aunt Lucky tried again, still holding Faith as she continued to cry. It was the first time I had ever heard my baby sister so upset. I walked towards Auntie Luck and held out my arms. "Here," I said over her cries, "I'll take her so you can do that."

She nodded and handed Faith to me and automatically, the baby started to calm down, almost as if she realized that we were finally heading into action. I watched as Aunt Lucky tried the combination again and suddenly, I remembered Daddy changing it again before they left. "Wait! It's not my birthday," I whispered, thinking. "It's Faith's."

Aunt Lucky glanced up at me and nodded. "I really wish your dad would keep us in the loop when he decided to do shit like this," she said, shaking her head. "Sorry."

"It's okay," I replied automatically, knowing for years what words Daddy and Aunt Lucky could say and I couldn't. It came with the territory.

Finally, she spun the combination knob correctly and it popped open. She grabbed the box of bullets at the bottom of the safe but shook her head. "They took all the guns," she whispered. "What's the fucking point of locking it if it's empty?" She slammed the door shut again and turned to stare at me.

The fear that I had been feeling for the last hour or so choked me and I tried my best to stay calm, just like Momma. Auntie Luck stood up again and glanced out the window. "Lib," she started, looking down at me. "I will be back in five minutes. I have to go get my guns and blades." She stared out the windows and her breathing came faster. She was getting nervous. "Do I have time?"

"I don't know," I breathed. Faith took a deep ragged breath and I shook my head as she began to wail again.

"Liberty, focus. Do I have time?"

"I'm sorry, Auntie! I don't know!"

She looked at me for a full five seconds as she decided what to do. "I can't do shit without my weapons," Auntie whispered. Then, steeling herself, she kissed me on the head. "Panic room, Lib. Now." She tore off towards the back door and sprinted across the field between our houses.

When she opened the door, Johnny came into the house and began pacing around. He wagged his tail and licked my face when he got close enough and I pushed him away. Uncle Sammy ran back down the stairs, carrying Glory and Charlie. Levi followed behind, trying his best to keep up with his dad. Uncle Sammy looked at me and furrowed his eyebrows. "Where's Auntie Serra?"

I pointed towards their house across the field. "Momma and Daddy took all the guns with them," I stated simply. "She ran to get hers. She said she would be back in five minutes."

Uncle Sammy blew the hair out of his face and nodded. "Okay," he started. "Come on. Let's lock it down."

I made the move to follow Uncle Sammy as he trotted towards the staircase to our basement, but the entire house shook as it felt like something big collided with it. Uncle Sam stopped and glanced around, a worried look shooting across his face. "Lib," he whispered. "Come to me. Come right now."

I nodded and made the move to come closer to him, but another shake of the house made it hard to move. Faith had stopped crying and she was watching my face carefully, so I tried to be brave, like Daddy. "It's okay, Faith," I managed, trying to take another step through the earthquake that shook our whole house. "We'll be okay."

The back door slammed open again and Auntie Luck came bursting in and dove towards us, standing in front of us protectively. I tried to move closer to Uncle Sammy, but every step I took felt like he was moving farther away from me. "Reach, Lib," Uncle Sam strained. "You can make it."

"Sam!" Aunt Lucky screamed, physically pushing us towards Uncle Sammy. He tried to reach us, but something invisible shoved him down the stairs and he fell, holding Charlotte and Glory. Trying his best, he curled his body around my sister and cousin, protecting them from the fall as much as he could. Levi and Everett tumbled after him and they all landed in a pile at the bottom, still being physically pushed through the doorway of the panic room, sliding on the mat in the doorway.

Johnny started barking at something none of us could see and we turned towards him, trying to figure out what we needed to do. "Go, Liberty!" Auntie Luck shouted above the wind that began to swirl inside of our house.

I tried to take a step, but it was like my feet were glued to the floor. "I can't!" I yelled, still trying to move. "I can't move my feet!"

Aunt Lucky tried to get to us, but ended up falling to the floor because her feet wouldn't leave the ground either. Finally, the wind stopped, and we heard the panic room's door slam shut. The combination lock panel exploded, locking the rest of my family inside and I could hear Uncle Sammy immediately begin to pound on the door, trying to get out. "Serra!" he shouted. "Liberty!"

Faith began to cry weakly again, rubbing her face as Johnny was tossed down the basement steps. He whimpered and closed his eyes and I turned to look at Auntie Luck, a sob coming up from my chest. She shook her head, trying to keep me brave. "He's okay, Lib," she whispered as the lights began to flicker. "He's okay. Whatever it is just knocked him out."

I tried to nod, but I barely moved my head. I had never been so scared before. Momma was always there to make sure I was okay. Daddy protected me no matter what, and now, neither one of them were here. Uncle Sammy was locked in the panic room and Auntie Lucky couldn't get to me.

Three demons appeared, blasting the door off the frame, and smiled at us from inside their meat suits. Auntie began firing her guns, one shot after another but with a flick of their hands, they threw her against the wall, slamming her hard enough to put a hole in the wall where her head made contact and she fell to the ground, limp.

I turned to stare at the demons standing in my house and took a deep breath, feeling the hum of the shimmering protective shield Faith and I made together that surrounded us. "Uncle Cas," I whispered. "Please come."

…

Grace stood and pushed her shield out hard enough to slide the closest, overturned car away from her and Dean. Blasts of light exploded all around them as the witches made a final push towards the couple standing against the brick wall. Turning slightly to keep from being blinded, Dean glanced at the brick wall behind him and was taken aback by the silhouette that was spread across the brick and mortar. Grace's wings were bigger than he remembered and for the first time since being attacked, Dean turned back towards the coven and smiled.

"Gracie," he whispered, leaning towards her ear. "It's time to end this."

She nodded, raising her arms and lifting the car completely from the ground to toss it at the witches across the road. They scattered, diving for cover and Dean unloaded the full clip in his gun at them, knowing that if they were running, then their concentration was broken. This was his chance.

He let the empty clip fall from his forty-five and reloaded instantly, pushing the new, full clip into his gun and continuing to fire towards the witches. His aim was infallible, hitting each target he aimed at. He took out three more of them; each hitting the ground in a pile of fabric and hair. Trying his best not to kill any of the civilians, he still aimed for their arms and thighs, slowing them down enough to drop their guns and stare at their wounds curiously.

"Relentless," Dean muttered as he reloaded once more. "I'm down to my last forty-five clip, Grace. Gimme The Judge."

With her hands up, still concentrating, Grace turned so that Dean could see the matching pearl-handled forty-five tucked into the waistband of her jeans. He pulled it and clicked off the safety, aiming for the next set of witches that were attacking his wife. Rhiannon stared at the bullets and time seemed to bend as the shots slowed down.

"Little help, Gracie," he muttered. Instantly, she regained control of the bullet's trajectory and sped it back up, sending it into Rhiannon's exposed shoulder. It lodged there, making the blood drip down her chest, into her dress.

"You little bastard," Rhiannon spat as her sister came to help. Sasha lifted her hand and closed her eyes, muttering quietly to herself, trying to complete the healing spell.

Dean unloaded four more shots and they were halted in place as Rhiannon regained control. The bullets dropped to the ground and she smiled, the shine of her bald head reflecting the sunshine through the clouds.

Smiling and tilting his head, Dean replied, "Not true," he smiled. "I would only be a bastard if my parents weren't married. I'm more like…an asshole. A headache." He fired again. "A constant, throbbing thorn in your side." He winked at her. "By the way, I love your 'do. Very Sinead O'Connor."

Rhiannon shook her head as Sasha pulled the bullet from her shoulder and they both turned towards Dean and Grace once more. "I hope you told your children you loved them before you left," Rhiannon spat. "That was the last chance you would ever have."

Dean fired four times towards the witch, spending the last of The Judge. The slide came forward, proving that Dean was out of ammunition and he tucked the gun in the back of his pants, reaching for the nine millimeter that was tucked into his boot. Grace held up her hands and threw the park bench that had been passed back and forth back at the coven, forcing them to dive for cover.

When Rhiannon stood, she was holding one of the townspeople against her body as a shield. "Stop," she commanded. "You will stop, or they will begin to die. Eventually, I will find that runaway and kill her, and we will run out of townspeople. You will end up responsible for hundreds, if not thousands, of people dying in the streets."

Dean and Grace exchanged a look. Sighing heavily, Dean lowered his gun, acting as if he was done fighting. Rhiannon watched as Grace nodded once, giving her husband permission to do something and she gasped in horror as Dean Winchester raised his gun, aiming not for the witches, but the giant propane tanks behind them. Rhiannon hoped that the tiny, nine millimeter bullet would not be enough to puncture the steel tank, but his wife stood next to him, pushing her hands forward, palms out, controlling the speed and trajectory of his aim. The pair was a perfect combination of teamwork.

It was as if the air was sucked from the scene as the fire erupted from the punctured tank. The silence was deafening as the mushroom cloud-shaped explosion rose from the white containers and one after another, the four giant tanks exploded.

Grace braced herself as she raised her hands, manipulating the flames as she saw fit. She used the fire to push the witches back, throwing the flames towards Rhiannon, Sasha and the five remaining witches. Two of their dresses caught fire and in their panic, they were unable to stop the flames from crawling up the fabric and making contact with their long, flowing hair. They screamed in pain, trying to get away from the scalding heat, but it was too late. Their screams died away as Grace stepped clear of her protective barrier, Dean in her wake, firing what was left of his nine millimeter at the crowd and purposefully hitting shoulders and thighs to keep them at bay. Finally, he resorted to tossing aside the nine and grabbed the sawed off shotgun: the only remaining weapon he had at his disposal.

Dean walked backwards against Grace, leaving very little room between him and his wife. He fired occasionally, protecting her the best way he knew how, having no special powers of his own. The witches were on the run now, backing away quickly from Grace as she approached, throwing debris out of her way and tossing civilians to the side. She shook with adrenaline and fury and as three of the coven joined hands and began to chant, Grace lifted her hand, making a fist in the air, and immediately, the witches went silent, struggling for air. Dean whipped around, staring at them as they dropped to their knees, trying to breathe through Grace's hold.

Immediately, Rhiannon and Sasha glanced up towards the stone church, begging permission to some unseen leader. Grace lifted her arms, hands out, trying to keep them in place, but they vanished on the spot, escaping the flames that Grace attempted to bubble around them.

With the coven gone, dead, or dying, Grace allowed the flames to dissipate and she pushed her hands out, controlling the burn. Within seconds, the propane tanks were sealed, and the fire was gone. As the last of the coven lay there dying, Grace approached her and stared down into her amber eyes.

"Release the spell and I might let you live," Grace said quietly, silent rage still bubbling in her veins. Dean lowered the sawed-off towards the fallen witch, aiming directly at her forehead.

She coughed pathetically. "It's not my spell to release," she sputtered, coughing blood. She smiled weakly at Grace, feeling like she won, but as she lay there dying, a voice could be heard over the quiet.

"Dean!" the voice shouted, running down Main Street, her arms waving wildly. "Grace!"

The couple whipped around, turning towards their names. "Sabina," Grace breathed, a smile crossing her face. "She's okay."

Turning back to the witch that continued to cough up blood, Dean stared at her and clicked the safety off of his gun. "I guess we don't need you anyway."

One by one, the civilians that filled the streets with far-away looks plastered on their faces for who-knew how long seemed to come to, looking around confusedly and turning to one another and hugging. The witch at Grace's feet breathed her last strangled breath and her head hit the ground, finally going silent. Grace and Dean smiled at each other, finally feeling the surge of victory.

It was short-lived though, and the grin slid off of Grace's face when she replayed what had happened. "Liberty," she breathed, turning towards Dean. She pushed past him and sprinted for the Impala, ripping open the door, looking for her phone.

Dean was close behind, still limping slightly from the wound in his back. He stared at Grace as she dialed, the fear strangling his voice as Sabina joined them, watching carefully.

Staring at Dean, Grace waited with wide-eyed fear as the other end of the phone rang repeatedly; no one picking up on the other side.