Immediately Dean gets a wall behind his back, scanning the area closely. He closes his hands into fists, naturally wanting to be holding a weapon, but he tells himself he doesn't need one. At least not any mundane one; it would be insulting to the weapon he's meant to be wielding to pick up a hammer from a worktable or something.
"I know you're there," he intones, moving nothing but his eyes at first, but then stepping slowly away from the wall to walk towards the center of the room. He's trained himself to be cautious, and it can't hurt to keep that up, but it's not like they can do anything to him, not really.
No response rises. Amusement colors his tone. "Come out, come out, wherever you are…"
He can feel the fear in the air. It's… intoxicating.
"You know, your coming here is really a blessing in disguise, if you'll pardon the expression," he goes on. "It's been far, far too long since I killed anything."
He suddenly stops short. Automatically looks down at his feet, and, seeing nothing there, up above his head. At first, he doesn't see anything there either—the lighting in here is crap—but after a moment of focus and letting his eyes adjust, he can make out the devil's trap laid on the ceiling in dark paint.
And suddenly, there they are. A girl maybe around Emery's age, brandishing a shotgun, her dark hair secured in a long braid, with thin-framed glasses sitting upon her pretty face. The next, gun trembling in his hands, is a dark-skinned boy, maybe not even of drinking age, looking not at all ready to be here. But the third one—the third one takes Dean by surprise.
His genuine reaction should probably be worry at being tracked, but he's not about to show that. So instead he releases a laugh of disbelief as he takes in the sight of the young man pointing a pistol at him, and greets, shaking his head, "Noah, my man, how's it hanging?"
The kid he met in the bar two days ago only smirks, holding the gun steady as he approaches. He's looking Dean up and down like a trapped animal, and it's pretty insulting honestly, but Dean's too busy trying to get his head on straight and, oh yeah, being a bearer of the Mark of Cain to give a damn about how this kid looks at him.
"Guess you're not as much of a lightweight as I took you for," he surmises.
"Oh, no, that's pretty much how he always acts," the girl confirms. "Maybe a little louder than usual, but he probably wasn't even drunk. He just psychs himself up so much to get drunk that he acts like he already is right after starting his first beer. It's honestly pathetic."
She's so casual. So secure. He looks back and forth between the two of them, noting the similarities. They have the exact same color hair, the same chin. "Brother and sister?" he guesses. They give no reaction either way, which he takes as confirmation. "Well that's nice. You can die together."
Noah glances over at the girl, and Dean most certainly detects some genuine fear in his eyes. His lips curl in amusement, especially when the kid goes on to look back at him and reply confidently, "Good luck making that happen."
Dean looks up at the ceiling again and throws a hand up in casual indication of the devil's trap. "What, this little finger painting?"
He sees it all in their eyes. The sudden uncertainty, the attempt at disbelief. No, they're telling themselves, he's just bluffing.
The perfect reaction.
He steps to the edge of the devil's trap. Silently breathes out, bracing himself for what's to come. They've got their shotguns ready. There's probably no real need to fear that, and anyway, it's now or never.
Grimacing, producing grunts of pain that he can't hold back, he takes another step forward, forcing himself outside the trap.
He straightens up, still panting a little, and makes the mistake of stopping to relish the looks of fear on both the siblings' faces. As a result, he's not able to react quickly enough to the footsteps rapidly approaching him from the side, and something hard and metal crashes into the side of his head, turning everything to darkness.
So maybe covering the guy's mouth with duct tape that has devil's traps drawn all over it after filling his mouth with salt, using the rest of the salt to draw a thick circle all around him and the rest of the duct tape to bind his limbs as thoroughly as possible, and bringing in every bottle of holy water they have in the car to have on standby is overkill. Maybe. But they all agree overkill is better than stinginess in this case.
Adelaide is nearing the end of the first roll of duct tape, trying her best to avoid touching the man's skin, and to think of anything but how far this is above their pay grade. They've been hunting for what, six months? Never even caught wind of a demon till now, but they always thought they'd be prepared. Learning how to draw the devil's trap was one of the first things they did. Fat lotta good it did them.
She glances over at Cody, whose movements are still sluggish. He keeps just staring at the demon's—Emery's, as Noah told them—face, a look of morbid fascination and horror sitting upon his own, and Adelaide keeps having to shake him out of it. She's still not sure he should be here—has half a mind to send him to wait outside. He already drove that poor woman to the nearest hospital and came back, all while they were lying in wait here for the demon to return. She really doesn't think he's up for this. Which is ironic, considering he's the one who first got them into this hunting thing. Ever since, he's been the most halfhearted of all of them. He's more suited to research, and yet he keeps insisting on being present in the field. Well, one thing is for sure: of the three of them, he's the least likely to mess up the exorcism. And he's already proven himself beyond useful, having probably saved their lives by whacking the demon over the head at the last second.
Noah, meanwhile, is off on the phone, as he has been since he finished drawing the salt circle. He's been describing the situation to Walter, Cody's next door neighbor and the guy with all the experience as far as they're concerned. He's been with them on a hunt or two, but mostly he's just advised and worried, researched, and worried some more.
"I've heard of this guy," he says shortly after Noah finishes his summary of the situation. He's not on speaker, but her brother's just deaf enough that Adelaide can hear him clearly anyway if she's paying attention. And the level of fear in his voice does not sit well with her. "It's been a couple weeks now, but I heard it through the grapevine that there was a demon, or at least something demonic, out and about that was immune to devil's traps. The Winchesters encountered it and they were trying to find it again."
"The Winchesters?" asks Noah. They've heard Walter drop the name a few times. They're practically living legends, as far as Adelaide's gathered. It's odd to hear them talked about like something accessible.
"Yeah. Well, Sam was the one my buddy talked to. I didn't even speak direct with the guy, but…" Walter's voice shakes. "You kids are in over your head. A regular demon alone would be more than enough for hunters as inexperienced as you, but this… I want you out of there. I'm heading out now, I'll do the exorcism, just leave it to me."
"C'mon, Walter, the exorcism's the easiest part. And anyway, we don't know that he's immune, Addie smudged a little part of the trap so maybe—"
"Can you seriously tell me that that was the problem, beyond any shadow of a doubt?"
Noah sighs silently. "No… No, I'm not sure, but—"
"Guys," Cody interrupts. "I think he's waking up."
Adelaide looks. He's just as still as before. She hopes, for about the eighty-first time in the last ten minutes, that his host is still alive. He has a pulse, but she's not sure if that means anything. "Steady on there, Codes. But he's right, bro, we need to get started."
"Right," Noah acquiesces.
"Keep me on the line," comes Walter's voice as Cody pulls his prayer book from his pocket.
"No need to leave home, Walter," Noah says by way of answer. "We're an hour's drive away. It'll all be over long before you arrive."
"I'm starting now," says Cody, and they both automatically pull their respective bottles of holy water from their pockets. He gives it a moment of silence before turning his eyes towards his book and starting to read: "Exorcizamus te…"
Immediately the body stretched out on the floor is stirring, and they both start unscrewing the lids of their bottles. The demon's eyes fly wide open, and they're pitch black, and Adelaide knew that that sometimes happens but she has to stifle a gasp at the sight regardless. Cody, on the other hand, just about drops his book.
"Keep going," Noah urges. "Hurry."
Cody fumbles to find his place again, as the creature on the floor struggles to sit up, his eyes darting all around, taking them in, looking down at himself and seeing how tightly he's bound. His eyes screw shut as if in pain, and Adelaide's not sure if it's the devil's traps all over him or the salt or the words of the exorcism or, most likely, all of the above, but it seems to be effective.
As Cody keeps reading, the demon flinches, and quickly the flinching turns into thrashing. His body thuds repeatedly against the wooden floor and a haunting scream tears through the air in spite of the tape, and at this Adelaide does gasp, because she doesn't think she's ever heard any sound that carried with it such pure rage. The creature's unbridled anger hangs thick in the air, and the hate in its eyes… it's palpable.
"Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica," continues Cody, his voice remaining impressively steady, or at least as far as Adelaide can tell over the enraged screaming. "Ergo, draco—"
His voice breaks as suddenly, the ground beneath them begins to quake. Some of Adelaide's holy water sloshes out of its receptacle as she staggers in place, though she manages to keep her balance, as do the other two. For a moment they can only stare dumbly at the man struggling mightily against his bonds and flinching away from the salt every time he gets too close to it, as he seems utterly unaffected by the madness happening around him. Likely because… he's causing it.
"Cody!" Adelaide urges, and he shakes himself out of his reverie and goes back to his recitation. He hasn't even gotten one word further before something Adelaide can't see shoves her legs back. All thought flies from her head as her body just does its best to minimize the damage: the holy water falls to the floor as her arms fly downward in an attempt to keep her head from cracking against the floor, an attempt that is only moderately successful as she does bang the side of her head against the wood, not as hard as she could have but enough that she sees stars for a moment. Pain flares up in her wrist, but the adrenaline keeps it dulled for the time being.
The building around them is absolutely rattling; she feels it even more as she's stretched out on the floorboards, and just as she looks up, Noah is flung upwards through the air. Not just back—he heads straight for the ceiling twenty feet up, and his trajectory would've taken him straight through that point if it weren't there. But it is, and he connects with the wood with a sickening crack, tearing a scream out of Adelaide, before falling two stories down and landing with a thud in a motionless heap on the floor.
Adelaide's attention is torn from her brother by the sound of something thick ripping apart and she turns to behold the man standing in the middle of the salt circle, duct tape raining like confetti all around him, although a significant amount remains on his clothes and skin. He tears the tape from his mouth and spits out the mouthful of salt, leaving a fair amount stuck to his face and already giving rise to noticeable welts. Wind out of nowhere is picking up around them, threatening the salt circle.
The demon rubs his host's face, eyes ablaze and fixed on Cody, who hasn't stopped reading all the while, and the creature screams, "Don't you dare read another—"
"Te rogamus, audi nos!" Cody cries, and looks up, as the demon's command morphs into a wordless shriek that carries a massive cloud of black smoke out of his mouth. Adelaide instinctively throws her whole body down as it billows upward towards the ceiling. The creature's scream echoes around them, and she covers her head, tears stinging in her eyes.
A thump reaches her, like a body hitting the floor, and suddenly, all is quiet.
She uncovers her eyes, and looks around. A large scorch mark that wasn't there before now mars the ceiling. The man the demon was possessing lies stretched out, motionless, half outside the salt circle. Her eyes come to a rest on Noah, just as still.
She stumbles in his direction, covering her mouth at first, but forsaking that motion as she stretches her hands out towards him. "Noah?" she whispers as she reaches him, but releases a choked sob as she sees that his eyes are open, glassy.
She becomes aware of Walter's voice rising from his phone lying some feet away, tinged with mounting panic, as well as Cody standing still right behind her. All she can do is grasp her brother's shoulders and pull him close, willing him to wake up. But he doesn't.