Sophia's Chronicles
Chapter 49: The Confrontation
Previously on Sophia's Chronicles…
Lucifer: I'm an angel.
Vince: Those are real?
Lucifer: Real and very powerful, Vince… Will you invite me in?
Vince: Yes.
..
Nick: You need me to say 'yes' to Lucifer again?
Zara: Yeah
Nick: All I'm asking for is to have some time to spend living my life before I give it all away to Lucifer. And I want you here with me.
..
Crowley: Guess who's King again.
Dean: Demons are still demons. And you didn't live up to your end of the deal.
Crowley: Dean, you squirrel. We're still on the same team. Just in case they decide to come back, we're going to need to fight them. Together. With those weapons… Fine, I'll issue a stand-down order. No more demons you need to worry about.
Dean: Alright. Just find the archangels quickly so that we can go back to killing each other.
..
Crowley: Lucifer has no plan.
Sam: Well he killed an upwards of 600 people without a plan… So what do we do now?
Crowley: We follow the plan. Bust out the weapons of Heaven, hit him with all we've got.
Dean: What's that gonna do? He won't die easy.
Crowley: It'll weaken him. If we can't kill him or trap him yet, this is the next best thing.
..
Now…
(Crowley POV)
The sound of heels clanking echoed in the hallway as Crowley waited for the person he wanted to see. He was in a regal office, among wooden furniture and an assortment of interesting, classified materials. There was a map of the USA sprawled on a large table at the centre, with all kinds of markings and notes attached to it. Laid on the map were a few files with a tell-tale emblem on all of them, denoting the institution they belonged to. There were photos on all the files, clipped to the front, of faces that Crowley recognised – Sam, Dean, some other hunters and even Zara. The footsteps stopped abruptly at the door and a stifled gasp was audible. "Crowley," the woman greeted. "You could have made an appointment."
Crowley turned to her, giving the lady a furtive smile. "I didn't think such formalities were necessary between us, Dr Hess," the demon smirked.
"Why are you here? I thought our current arrangement in Britain was acceptable," Dr Hess said, walking over to him cautiously.
"Oh it is. Don't doubt it. As I see from this…" he gestured towards the map. "You have your eyes on the US of A as well."
"We are looking to… renew our presence there, yes," she admitted. "We can work out a similar arrangement there as well. I'm assuming that is what you're here for?"
"Not exactly, though I appreciate the commitment to our cooperation. I need something from you. A spell. I hear you've been experimenting with angels these days."
"All with your generous help, of course," she gave him a short nod in acknowledgement. What ulterior motive could the King of Hell possibly have to request help from her? she wondered, though she immediately dismissed the thought. So long as he held up his end of their arrangement to take only the souls of people stupid enough to sell them, the director of the British Men of Letters would have no problem with the King of Hell. "What kind of spell?"
"We'll discuss the details later. But first, let's talk Terms and Conditions. I have something to offer in return, of course." Crowley pointed to a picture on the table. "I can give you that. Thought you might be interested."
"Even we've been unable to locate-"
"I'm Crowley," he cut her off. "I can get anything. All I need from you is a very particular kind of spell. Do we have a deal or not?"
(Winchester POV)
Bobby's House, Sioux Falls, South Dakota – 19 August 2011, 7.35pm
Dean's heart sank as he read the headline on the front page of a newspaper. "658 dead at Cleveland rock concert – Deadliest massacre in US history, next to 9/11," it read. Dean's eyes skimmed over the article, picking out small details that made his knowledge of what had happened more depressing. "Authorities suspect biochemical warfare… cause unknown… Singer Vince Vincente missing… Candlelight vigil being held…" He just gave up and put down the newspaper, unable to read any more of the tragedy that had taken place right under their noses.
"Don't beat yourself up over it," Sam advised as he settled down next to his brother.
"We should have done something, Sammy," he lamented as he took a swig of his beer.
"I know." Sam was just as distraught as his brother. In all their lives, they had always been able to do something to defeat evil. They had always found comfort in the fact that their work saved people and did something to fight back against the evils of the world. But the most horrible feeling they had both felt was learning about the existence of something worse than all the monsters they'd seen – the Devil. The very face of evil. And they were mostly helpless in front of it. "We can't let this stop us. We'll find something, Dean. We always have."
Dean nodded. "For all our sakes, I hope you're right."
As they both enjoyed a moment of silence, the sound of a ring of keys being set on the table snapped them both out of their dazes. They looked up to see Bobby standing over them. "We'll mourn them later. Right now we need to get the nukes." Dean eyed the keys, remembering the immense power behind the door that the keys opened. He desperately hoped that the Heavenly weapons would be enough to, as Crowley said, weaken Lucifer. But what then? They needed a plan to permanently lock him up. Without one, it was the apocalypse again. Dean felt weariness tug at his muscles. It felt like they'd just gotten a breather after the apocalypse, after Purgatory, after Sophia, and now they were thrown back into it again like whatever they'd done made no difference. At the back of his mind, concern flared at the thought of Sam taking on Lucifer again and jumping into the cage. He didn't know if he had it in him to deal with the loss of his brother again.
"Where to?" Sam asked. They had entrusted Bobby with the job of hiding the weapons. Guy sure knew how to keep monsters out – just look at the panic room he built over a free weekend.
"Duluth, Minnesota," the older man answered. "53 Cottonsage Avenue. Give the door a rough push after you unlock it. And watch out for the trip wires. Maybe I should write this down…" He felt the pockets on his vest for a pen.
"Wait, wait, Bobby," Dean held up a finger. "You're coming with, right?"
"I've got some business to attend to," he replied as he pulled out a blue ballpoint pen and picked up a notepad from his table.
"Are you… gonna tell us?" Dean probed.
"If it amounts to anything, I will," Bobby replied. He avoided making eye contact with them, which slightly unsettled the boys. "If you really need to know, I got a lead on our archangel problem. But it ain't much. You boys go ahead, I'll catch up."
Sam and Dean exchanged surprised but worried looks. "That's… that's great, Bobby," Sam said, looking hopeful. "We could come help you out."
"Yeah, sounds important," Dean added.
"No, I got th-" The sound of a phone ringing interrupted their conversation. "If you'll excuse me…" Bobby fished out his phone and went outside to take the call, while the boys simply watched him leave.
"Is it just me, or is he acting a little weird?" Dean asked his brother.
"Yeah, something's up. But it's Bobby, Dean. If he says he wants to work a lead alone, I say let him," Sam answered.
"Yeah but… how whack does this lead gotta be that he won't even tell us much about it?" Dean challenged.
"Dude," Sam exhaled slowly. "Why're you making a big deal out of this? He said he'll tell us if he gets something."
"I don't know, Sammy. I just have a weird feeling about this." Dean fidgeted with the label on his beer as he contemplated why he felt the way he did.
"What's up with you? Lately you've been so… on-edge. And it's not just Lucifer, is it?"
"I… uh…" Dean slowly shook his head, self-analysing. He just felt the weight of the world on his shoulders sometimes and he didn't know where to begin. Just then, the door swung open and Bobby returned. "Everything okay?" he asked, clearing his throat.
"Yeah, yeah, it's nothing," Bobby waved it off, not bothering to elaborate on his mysterious phone call. "You boys better hit the road first thing in the morning."
(Zara POV)
Clarksburg, West Virginia – 19August 2011, 6.42pm
Their lips parted. They both panted heavily, holding each other close. The relief of their intimacy washed over them in a cool wave throughout their bodies, though both of them felt heat emanating where they pressed against each other. Still, they remained in proximity, unwilling to sever the emotional bond forged between them by their passionate and energetic love-making. Nick traced her forearm with a finger until he reached her palm and intertwined their fingers. Zara's other hand rubbed his back, stroking the back of his shoulder and neck. There were things she wanted to say but words could not describe the feelings she had. She had this overpowering feeling that every inch of her felt for him – like his arms were where she was meant to be this whole time. She closed her eyes, drowning in the ocean of his warmth. She was absolutely overwhelmed, unable to even form coherent thought – the only thing that made sense were her feelings for him. The sensation of his cheek against hers sent an ecstasy through her body that made her so satisfied that death seemed palatable; nothing else could come close to making her feel so safe and contented.
No other thoughts occurred to her in moments like these, when Nick would come home and they would just sustain small conversations until after dinner. Though their dialogue conveyed normal talk of work and other happenings, their suggestive gazes would look forward to an entirely different reality in which they spoke with kisses and wrote poetry on each other's bodies. He was like an addiction she could not kick. That night, however, was different. They went at it harder and rougher than they ever had, pushing each other to the boundaries of pain and pleasure combined into one. There were marks all over both of them as evidence of that. There was a reason to this madness, of course – their time was up. The month was over and they both knew it.
They both sat up, passing a cigarette between each other as words were unspoken between them. "I'm ready," Nick finally said, when their heartbeats returned to a normal pace.
Zara inhaled the foul-tasting fumes as she replayed those words over and over in her head. "I'm not," she replied, her tone monotonous and unclear as to her emotions. Nick turned to face her, only to find her brown eyes gazing straight ahead. He studied her expression but derived nothing from it.
"You don't have much of a choice, do you?" he said, unsettled by her inaction.
"Does it really matter? Does it matter what we do?" she asked. Reluctance gnawed at her.
Nick sighed. "We've both been in bed with two of the most powerful beings in existence, quite literally. I'd think it matters," he mused. "Zara," he took her hand in his. "We shouldn't anger Lucifer more than we probably already have."
"This isn't our fault, Nick," she argued. "Why should we have to pay for Sophia's sins? Why should I…" her voice became choked with grief. She knew why she had to – she had chosen this commitment. Yet, she just couldn't bring herself to accept it.
"This is bigger than the both of us," he reasoned. "It'll only be easier if we both play our parts." Bigger than both of us. That's exactly what Zara had told herself the day she'd met him. Only now did she realise that she was a fool for ever thinking that this mission could be so straightforward.
"The world isn't ending this time," she protested.
"Zara…"
"There's no 'big plan' out there for us anymore," she said, desperately trying to find an excuse.
"That's not why we became vessels. We did it because we needed help."
"We don't now! We have each other," her eyes begged him to agree. His eyes, on the other hand, held nothing but sympathy.
"Don't we? Don't you?" he shot back, recalling his ever-present state of despair. He knew he wasn't well in the head. And he knew that Zara wasn't either. What could the world possibly offer the both of them? "You're not doing well, Zara. You act like you're okay but you're really not. Sometimes you look like you're one breakdown away from suicide! And do I even need to bring up the coke?"
"The coke?" she exhaled in shock and her eyebrows crinkled into a frown. "How do you know about that?"
"I've known," he began, though no judgment shone from his eyes. He remained as sympathetic to her as he could. "For a while now. You need help, Zara. Divine or unholy intervention, it doesn't matter. But I know that Lucifer would help you. Just let me do what I must."
She shook her head, her eyes becoming glassy. "It's not like that. I… I haven't done the coke. And I'm not going to," she stated with determination. It was more of a promise than a fact. If she was going to have a second chance at life again, she wanted to at least try to be… 'not a mess'.
"Then why do you have it?" he challenged. "You got it because you were thinking about it. And I know better than anyone that… one of these days, it's not going to take much for you to fall off the wagon."
"God!" she exclaimed, getting up impatiently. She walked up to the dresser, got the packet of cocaine from her bag and stormed off into the toilet. As Nick watched, she ripped open the packet and flushed down the cocaine right in front of him. Angrily, she sat back down. Nick just watched, intrigued, and noticed how her hair bounced and flowed down her back as she took her place next to him. "Happy now?"
When he didn't say anything, she looked at him and saw a soft smile on his face as he just kept staring at her with what could only be deemed as affection.
"What?" she glowered.
"You're really cute when you're angry," he chuckled. Her expression eased but she still wasn't amused. She lay back down, resting her head on the pillow. He did the same so they both lay close and facing each other. "I get what you're saying. I really do. And I'll admit, when you're around, I'm not inside my head and I like that. Because the person I am inside my head is not good company," he confessed. Zara nodded in understanding. She knew exactly what he meant because it was the same for her. Sulking wasn't good for anyone. Being with someone else and living outside herself was what gave her energy. "But I'm just worried about you."
"Nick…"
"And I'm worried about us. You don't know what could be happening in the world. Hell, Lucifer could be looking for you right now. If you called him now and did what you were supposed to do, he would sympathise. But if you left it up to him to hunt you down… there's no way that ends good," he explained.
"I refuse to believe that. We can protect ourselves. I can ward this place against angels and demons. They won't find us," she pleaded. "In the last month, we've never even come across a single angel or demon. That must be a good sign. Whatever's happening, we're out of the radius."
"I don't know about that…"
"Just trust me, okay? I know how to keep us out of their sights. I've picked up a few things over the past two years," she said. "Please." She took his hand with both of hers and kissed his knuckle. Nick's other hand pushed a strand of her hair away from her face and he traced her cheek, giving serious thought to what she said. "We can just forget about them."
The burden of decision-making rested on his shoulders. His mind felt heavy and conflicted. But he knew what he wanted and what he felt whenever he looked at her. With the way she looked at him – with longing and hope – how could he resist?
(Winchester POV)
Store Room, Duluth, Minnesota – 20 August 2011, 1.12pm
The town was quiet as the Impala pulled up on a street packed with buildings, only a few murmurs of conversation here and there being an indication of people being there. Sam dug a hand into his pocket, feeling for the ring of keys and holding onto it as though he feared he would lose it if he wasn't gripping it in his palm until they made it to the door. They went down a set of stairs in a run-down two-storey building in which a DVD shop rented the first floor. The constant drone of an old TV playing an even older VHS tape followed them as they unlocked the first door and went into a narrow passage. There was dust and spider webs everywhere and when Sam tried the switch, the lights flickered weakly and went out. Busting out flashlights, the boys advanced, looking for a very specific door. The warding was very distinct on this door – it was as powerful as warding got. Carefully, Sam unlocked the door while Dean undid all the trip wires and other traps. There, they found the delicately wrapped weapons, some stashed in warded boxes and some in safes.
"Nice to see you again," Dean grinned as he held up one of the weapons, the Holy Lance. He traced the length of the Lance with his fingers, admiring its smooth finish.
"Dude, be careful," Sam warned as his brother moved to wield it. His eyes wandered over the weapons, mentally checking them against an inventory. "Everything's here. Let's start loading the van."
"That's good to hear," a third voice chimed in. The boys spun to see a young black-haired woman with two male accomplices at her side. The men blinked and their eyes turned obsidian. Before the boys could react, the demons shot them with tranquilizers. With a thud, the Winchesters fell to the ground, unconscious. Then, using a real gun, the human woman shot the devil's trap on the ground, breaking it. Slowly, the demons made their way into the room while their female accomplice undid the warding.
Later, the boys awoke in a dark space lit by a single light dangling from the ceiling. "Sam?" Dean called out as he moved to get up, finding that he was tied to a chair and so was his brother. Sam groaned awake, vision blurry as he blinked his eyes a few times.
"W-Where are we?" he asked. "What happened?"
Dean struggled to remember what he saw last, his eyebrows creasing into a frown. He remembered entering the store room, noticing the intricate warding, the Lance… black eyes. "Demons."
Sam looked up at his brother but his gaze wandered beyond him. "Dean," his eyes beckoned to something behind him.
"Ah, you're awake," the woman greeted them. She wore this long black dress that enveloped her figure perfectly and she had these high cheekbones that could cut flesh just like her sharp blue eyes that seemed to see right through your soul. This mysterious woman had a delicate smile that would be otherwise welcoming if it were not for the current context. "Crowley would like to thank you, by the way, for the weapons."
"Oh yeah, well good luck getting past the devil's trap," Dean snarled.
Her long, thin, manicured fingers stroked his chin, holding it up to face her. "That's why I'm here, lover," she answered as her eyes playfully scanned his toned facial features. "The devil's trap is destroyed and so is every sigil in that store room."
"But demons can't break devil's traps," Sam voiced.
"That's right," she straightened up. "I'm no demon."
"Then what brand of evil are you?"
She regarded Sam with an amused scepticism and huffed. "Like I would tell you."
"Then tell us this," Dean retorted. "Why is Crowley doing this? We had a deal!"
"Ah, the deal. About that," she briefly stared at the ground, trying to find the words as she crossed her arms. "He said that he needed you boys out of the way for what he's about to do. Also, something about loopholes. I wasn't really paying attention, to be honest. Can you blame a girl for getting lost in his eyes?"
Sam and Dean exchanged a bored look, a precursor to the rolling of eyes. "How about you untie us and we'll find something else to blame you for?" Dean did little to hide the snark in his voice.
"You know what?" Her tone picked up in impatience this time. "The both of you should be grateful. Crowley could have had you both killed if he wanted. Instead, he's keeping you safe in here from whatever's going on outside. A real gentleman." She sighed in flirtatious relief, a smile glowing on her face as she thought of him.
"Wait, what's going on outside?" Sam probed.
"Oh, never mind," she suddenly shook her head, realising that she probably said more than she should have. "I'll leave you both to it, then. Don't worry, we'll let you go when the time comes." She took a few steps toward the door and stopped, turning to face them again. "Name's Esther, by the way." All that they heard was the sound of her heels clanking against the floor and the rusty door coming to a close, before silence fell again.
"Great, just great," Dean lamented.
"How do you think they found us?" Sam asked his brother, still confused about the whole situation.
"It's Crowley. He always has tricks up his asshole," Dean replied, agitated. He jerked about, pulling at the ropes binding his body to the chair. His wrists were cuffed in front of him. He gave up after a while, finding that his efforts did little. "Dammit."
"Dean, what about Bobby? He's probably gonna show up thinking that we're okay and walk right into their trap," Sam concerned.
"Right now we gotta hope that he doesn't."
An hour passed, maybe two. Dean kept trying to break free, hoping that his cumulative efforts would do something to the ropes. Sam, on the other hand, looked around the room, eyes straining to adjust to the darkness, in order to make out where they were and whether there was anything that could help them. The sound of the door opening snapped them out of their thoughts. "Back so soon?" Dean called out. No answer. Two figures moved swiftly toward the Winchesters.
"Hey I'll take this one," one demon said to the other as he stood over Sam. This one had a leather vest and a striking mullet that did not age well.
"What's going on?" Sam shrank back, unsure of what to expect.
The demon swung a fist at his face, eliciting a grunt. "Boss said to keep you alive. He didn't say anything about not having fun," the demon hissed.
"Hey, stay away from him, shitface!" Dean yelled. That earned him a punch too.
"Exorcizamus te-" Another punch.
"This is every demon's dream," the one facing Dean said. "How could we pass up this great opportunity?" More punches ensued. At some point, the same demon brandished a small blade, pressing it against Dean's collarbone. Through spots of radiating pain on his face, Dean looked at his brother. Sam's face had swelled with blue-black bruising all over and he was bleeding from his mouth and nose. For a moment their eyes met and Dean nodded as though to tell his brother to hang in there.
"While you're in here," Sam spat out as he panted heavily with effort. "The others are having fun on Crowley's mission."
"Doesn't matter. We'll all be celebrating once Sophia is out of the picture," Mullet-Head smirked.
"Sophia?" Sam and Dean said at the same time.
"Today's the day we ice that Hell-hating bitch," the demon nodded. "I've waited so long for this."
"What about Lucifer?" Sam asked.
"Oh I'm sure he'll be upset. But he's still in the cage so who cares, right?" That's when they realised that the demons didn't know the truth. They didn't know that Lucifer was out. Would they obey Crowley otherwise?
"Hey Rambo, who killed all those people in Cleveland?" Dean addressed the mullet-headed demon.
"Are you kidding?" The demon gave him a self-satisfied chuckle. "Who else? It was Sophia. Not bad, if I say so myself, but why does she get to have all the fun?"
"Yeah," the other demon agreed. "Lucifer would have let us take over all of Cleveland if he'd done it."
"That's what I'm saying man," Mullet-Head drawled in his Southern accent. "I was all for Satan during the apocalypse until he brought in that girl… what was her name?"
"Zara," the other demon helped him.
Mullet-Head snapped his fingers. "Yeah, her. And then he had to free Sophia."
"But Martin, they were lovers," the other demon sympathised.
"What has she done for us? She ain't in Hell most of the time and now Crowley's in-charge. And she didn't even try to free Lucifer for a whole year! Lovers, my ass," Martin complained. "She made Lucifer weak, man. It's what women do."
"Stop this!" Esther's voice caused them to jump.
"Uh… I didn't mean it that way," Martin rushed to apologise.
"Oh, I know exactly what you meant," she glowered at him as she briskly walked towards them. "Who told you that you could come in here, huh?" She sternly reprimanded them. A deep frown beset her face as she looked at what they'd done to both Sam and Dean. "You morons! Look at what you've done! I'll make sure Crowley hears about this. Now get out of here!"
"You're not our boss!" Martin protested.
"You want to challenge me, Martin?" Esther growled. She thrust a palm in his direction. "Valeo!" Martin was immediately flung back several feet. The other demon flinched, not daring to show any more defiance. "Theo, get Martin out of here and bring me a first aid kit," she ordered. When she was left alone with the Winchesters, she let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose with her eyes closed. "I… apologise. This wasn't supposed to happen."
"Oh I feel better already," Dean replied sarcastically.
"I'm serious!" she exclaimed defensively. "I don't wanna hurt you both." Theo entered meekly, handing her the first aid kit. She set it down on the floor, opening it and getting out the aseptic solution. Slowly, she worked on Dean's wounds first, dabbing carefully on the reddened areas. He clenched his teeth to keep from wincing.
"What's Crowley doing that is so bad that he wants us out of the way, huh?" Dean inquired.
"You'll find out soon enough, trust me. But it's better for you both to be here," she answered, avoiding his gaze. "I'll get you some ice for that. After I'm done with your brother." Surely enough, after cleaning up Sam's wounds, she left the room to get some ice.
"Dean," Sam whispered. His eyes gestured to the first aid kit. "I'll keep watch." Nodding in agreement, Dean rocked himself onto his feet, which were also bound by cuffs. Taking a moment to regain his balance, he bent down and rummaged the first aid kit for something useful. His fingers found a pair of scissors and some safety pins. That would have to do. He quickly used the safety pins to wrestle with the lock on the handcuffs and pop them open. Once he'd done that, getting out of the ropes was easier. The faint sound of heels tapping against the floor reached Sam's acute ears. "Pst," Sam sounded. Dean quickly sat back down, hoping Esther wouldn't notice anything just yet. With a 'click', the door swung open.
Esther approached Dean with the ice pack in her hands, reading the labels. Just as she stood before him, she noticed that the cuffs around his ankles were unlocked. A gasp barely escaped her lips before Dean jumped to his feet and drove the scissors into her carotid artery. "No hard feelings," he said as he pulled out the scissors, letting blood spray all over the floor. She gurgled with blood escaping into her throat and her left hand scrambled to stem the flow of blood. Inevitably, she collapsed to the ground, a shock-riddled expression plastered on her face. Dean hurried to free his brother and they both finally stood together, rubbing their wrists and arms. Sam glanced at the figure of the bleeding woman, feeling a little sorry for her. After all, she did try to help them. "We gotta go now, Sam."
Quietly, they proceeded down the dark hallways, checking various rooms to see where their weapons and phones were stashed. "Dude," Sam beckoned. He stood close to the slightly-opened door of a storage room full of shelves. Beyond a few rows of shelves was a light and as the boys scurried in, staying in the cover of darkness, they saw their guns and other items piled on a table. Unfortunately, the two demons they had a run-in with earlier were sitting around the table, playing cards. The boys exchanged knowing looks and split up.
"Man, I hate being bossed around by females," Martin grumbled as he slapped down a card.
"Yeah, well get used to it because it looks like the King's got himself a hot secretary," Theo replied nonchalantly. A box full of items fell over somewhere in the room, catching both of them by surprise.
"What was that?" Martin stared into the shadows. "I'll check it out." As Martin wandered in the direction of the noise, Theo stood in the light, staring at Martin to see what was up. While they were both distracted, Sam snuck up to the table, grabbed the demon-killing knife and stabbed Theo in the back. The demon died with a loud groan. "The hell?" Martin rushed back to see his dead partner on the ground and Sam Winchester standing over him. "Oh shit," he cursed as he smoked out of his vessel and disappeared.
Dean emerged from the shadows, regarding the empty vessel on the ground with a puzzled expression. "Well that was easy." Rearmed and ready, they came upon a corridor flanked by a series of windows, letting in light from the streetlamps outside. This was the first glimpse of the outside world they'd had since being brought here. From the rows of buildings outside, it seemed like they were in the same town though it was night-time now. The building they were in also had more floors than the other smaller buildings across the street, giving them a nice aerial view of the town and the harbour beyond. The whole place was quiet, like eerily quiet, which tipped Sam off. "Sam, we better get going before he gets backup."
"Wait, what's that?" Dean followed Sam's gaze to a point in the distance. The clouds looked strange, circling over a specific point on the ground. Then, out of the blue, a bright white light burst outwards, sending out a sonic boom. Dean instinctively grabbed his brother and ducked, putting himself between his brother and the blast wave which shattered the glass windows and sent shards flying. Lucky for them, their leather jackets protected them from most of the spiky pieces of glass, though the back of their hands and parts of their legs were not spared. "You okay?" Sam's worried gaze scanned his brother up and down for any serious injuries.
Dean simply gaped, unsure of what to say. He had a sinking feeling in his chest after what he'd just witnessed and he wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. Something seemed awfully wrong about how it was dead silent again. Eventually, the Winchesters found their way back to the Impala. "The van's gone," Dean noticed. Esther and friends probably used it to get the weapons out, which meant that they could track the weapons. At least there was a glimmer of hope. As the Winchesters hurried into their home-on-wheels, they felt invigorated and ready to face what was out there.
Duluth, Minnesota – 20 August 2011, 7.44pm (Half an Hour Earlier)
Her eyes were still open as the pool of blood grew in size. The edge of the puddle inched away from Esther's neck, reaching out in tiny tendrils. Then, like a receding wave, the blood moved back in through the puncture hole in her neck, flowing back into her body. A pink glow emanated from under her skin as the stab wound healed and little trace was left. Her chest heaved as she gasped for life and her body propelled into a seating position. Her head spun with images of what had happened shortly before she was killed. "Oh no," she said in a hushed tone to herself. She jerked towards the empty chairs, heart pounding wildly. She cursed sharply. Rushing to get her things, she checked the time on her phone. "Shit, I'm late!"
Esther was supposed to have left earlier to help Crowley with his plan, though the incident with the demons put a pause on her schedule. And here she thought she could quickly clean up after the black-eyed idiots and leave immediately after. Fortunately, it wasn't so easy to kill a highly-skilled witch. Scorn for the Winchesters filled her veins as she jumped into her car and took off as fast as she could. They killed her? Showing kindness was a mistake, she thought as she sped down the roads. She heaved a sigh of relief as she saw the army of demons standing at the bridge. No one was dead yet. No one was fighting anyone yet. But two distinct voices were talking. She pushed and shoved her way through the demons to get to the King. Recognising her, they gave way.
"You? You think you can take my throne?" Lucifer laughed heartily. The face of Vince Vincente came into view as Esther took her place next to Crowley, all the ingredients for the spell ready with her. "I'm going to bet that every single demon standing behind you wouldn't hesitate to throw you off this bridge if I asked."
"That's the thing, Lucifer. They haven't. Do you know what that means?" Crowley prompted. "You've lost the battle for hearts and minds. They know now that you don't really care about demon-kind. And frankly, you losing the apocalypse to Sam Winchester doesn't give off a good image." He smirked, prepping his best shit-talking skills. "You archangels think that just because you're strong, we should all bow before you. But really, you don't give a shit about the little guy. You see us all as expendable." He turned to the army. "And I'm here to say, every one of you matters!" Cheers resounded, much to Lucifer's surprise. Something's not right… the archangel realised. During the cacophony of resounding approval, Crowley took note of Esther's presence.
"What took you so long?" Crowley murmured through clenched teeth to her.
"A slight hiccup, boss. The Winchesters are loose," her eyes begged for forgiveness. "I'm so sorry. They caught me off-guard. I'll take care of it, I promise. As soon as we're done here."
Crowley studied her expression with a furious intensity. Her sharp features sent daggers through his heart and he just couldn't find it in himself to stay mad at her for long. He knew she was a highly-capable witch and that the Winchesters could be tricky sons-of-bitches. "Fine. You'd better keep your word. Now get on it," he commanded.
"Hello…? Crowley? If you're done whispering sweet nothings into that broad's ear…" Lucifer began. He held his arms out in beckoning. "I say we have a little one-on-one, end this once and for all. Or you could just stand down and I'll show mercy – I'll make it a quick death."
"Oh I don't think so. You see, Lucifer, I may not be as powerful as you, but I'm certainly smarter. I'll always be ten steps ahead of you," Crowley bragged. He did a gesture with his hands and a row of demons appeared behind Lucifer. These were Crowley's most trusted generals. They would do whatever he ordered. The archangel turned to see them, noticing the various weapons they were holding in their hands.
"That's your plan?" Lucifer huffed. "You shouldn't be playing with toys that dangerous, kids."
"Fire!" Crowley yelled. At once, the demons struck the archangel with the Heavenly weapons, holding a weapon with one hand and aiming its power with another. Lucifer blocked their strikes with his arms, withstanding the assault to the best of his ability. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was using up so much energy to guard his vessel from the attacks that he was becoming spent. That only made him angrier and his anger fuelled his willpower to withstand the attack and tear open Crowley's skin. When they finally stopped, he took in a deep breath, unwilling to show weakness.
"That all you got? I didn't even feel anything!" he dismissed, laughing in amusement of their lame attempt in subduing him. Just as he turned to face Crowley, he felt something sharp pierce his abdomen. Lucifer let out a groan despite himself. As his blazing eyes met Crowley's, the demon King jerked the Lance, eliciting another loud groan from the mighty archangel. With a sharp tug, Crowley pulled out the weapon, causing Lucifer to stagger forward. He was weakened, yes, but he wasn't that weak. If anything, he was agitated. "You can't kill me, Crowley," he snarled in a manner so menacing that it sent shivers through the demons. "And when you're dead, anyone who's ever helped you is going to get a millennium in the Pit!" He put a palm to his pierced side, healing the deep wound.
"I don't need to kill you, Lucifer. I just need to stall you," Crowley spat out. He nodded at Esther, who by now had enough time to set up her ritual with the cover of demons. The crowd of demons parted, revealing her quickly-made ritual.
"In nomine chao, ad quos eieci tei," she recited as Crowley carved a sigil into a demon's chest. While she began the spell, her power was so strong that the sigil began to glow even before he could finish it. When he did complete the final line, connecting the whole image in a closed circle, rays of white light sprung from its edges. The air became thick with the witch's conjuring of energy and a strong breeze blew as the clouds began circling above them. "Vade ad fundum maris, auferetur a vobis uires..."
Lucifer's eyes widened before he could fully grasp what was happening. Like a piece of paper being swept up in a hurricane, he felt himself being pulled away in the strong gust of whatever magical rite the witch was performing. No, I must resist! As he struggled to stay on his own two feet, every single ounce of energy in him went into resisting the spell. His eyes flared the brightest it could, shooting out almost like laser beams – a terrifying display of how powerful he truly was. The demons shuddered as they heard him growl deafeningly in effort. In a final flourish, Esther dropped a handful of the last ingredient into the bowl. "Abio!" she yelled. Taking his cue, Crowley stabbed the sigil-bearing demon straight in the chest, igniting the sigil in flames which devoured the sacrificial demon.
All sound ceased. There was a flash of such brilliant white light that everyone present just had to shut their eyes. And then came the ear-piercing thunder which was so loud that it sent out a sonic boom. With that, the light dimmed and Crowley opened his eyes to find himself standing victorious under the dark night sky. The devil was banished. He held his arms out. "Let it be known," he yelled loudly enough to address his army. "That Crowley is the true King of Hell!"
(Winchester POV)
"Bobby, are you okay?" Sam was talking to Bobby on the phone as Dean drove towards the epicentre of the blast they'd just witnessed.
"Yeah, I just rolled into town. Is everything alright?"
"No, something's gone wrong. We…" Sam was interrupted by his brother's nudging him to put it on speaker. He obliged, holding out the phone between the both of them. "We found the weapons but somehow Crowley sent his people after us and they… they knocked us out, Bobby. They have the weapons now."
"How? The room was warded!"
"He sent some chic, who we think could be a witch, with his demons and she got them past the warding," Dean chimed in. "We're going after Crowley right now."
"Balls!" An exasperated sigh was audible. "What about that loud noise? I'm guessing it isn't ordinary thunder."
"It definitely isn't," Sam replied. "There was this weird bright flash in the sky and it was… it was blinding. It looked like it was coming from the bridge near the harbour so that's where we're headed."
"There's an old textile factory a few blocks from the bridge. Go up to the eighth floor of the building and I'll meet you boys there."
"Got it." Sam cut the call.
Their footprints left clean trails on the dusty floor of the evacuated factory. Cool sea breeze blew in from the windows as the Winchesters looked around the empty floor. Paint peeled off the walls in ugly patches. There, they found Bobby Singer poised by an open window with a pair of binoculars. Luckily for him, all the glass panels of the windows had been removed from the building so there wasn't a blanket of glass shards on every floor. "What do we got?" Dean asked, announcing their arrival.
Bobby turned to briefly glance at them but his gaze was inevitably drawn to their striking physical state. They both were badly bruised in the head and thin patches of blood lined their pants. Both of them had shedded their glass-ridden leather jackets in favour of their thick FBI-guise coats. "Do I even wanna know?" the older man asked.
"Maybe later. What's the sitch at the bridge?" Dean pointed a casual finger out the window.
"Take a look," Bobby passed him the binoculars. As the Winchester observed, there was a mass gathering of people on the bridge with what appeared to be Crowley standing in front of them. "That probably explains why the whole town is empty."
"They're all possessed?" Sam posited, taking a look for himself with his bare eyes. From this distance, the demons appeared tiny but made a formidably-sized army.
While Dean quickly scanned the crowd, his attuned vision rested on one particular target. Puzzled, he lowered the binoculars. "Esther's there," he passed the binoculars to Sam. "The witch."
"Witch-killing bullets are in the trunk," Sam said decisively. They should have guessed that Dean stabbing Esther wasn't going to be enough to see the last of her, he thought.
"So what do you think is going on?" Bobby finally asked.
"All that we know is that whatever Crowley was planning, he wanted us out of the way," Sam replied.
A grave expression settled on Dean's face, his earnest green eyes not wavering from the swarm of demons on the bridge. "From the looks of it, he has a demon army ready to raise Hell on earth and the Heavenly weapons to fight off anyone who dares to fight them."
"Geez, don't be too positive, Dean," Bobby said wryly.
"Well, we gotta prepare for the worst possible scenario, Bobby. Why else would he want us out of the way?"
"He's right," Sam agreed. "How are we going to exorcise half a town's worth of demons and get the weapons back?"
"With help," Bobby stated. As the boys listened patiently, the older hunter explained his plan.
"Bobby, you're a genius!" Dean exclaimed, a hopeful smile lighting his face for the first time. "Those sons-of-bitches won't know what hit 'em."
"You can give me my Nobel prize later. If the plan works."
"So this hacker guy, what's his name again?" Sam inquired.
"Frank Devereaux. Guy may have a few screws loose, but you can trust him," Bobby elaborated. With that, the boys got back to the Impala to get the things they needed while Bobby called Frank. Little did they know, however, that Bobby made more than one phone call. It would be this second phone call that ultimately saved them later.
"You want the Heavenly weapons, don't you? Then get your asses down here and have a field day!" Bobby yelled into the phone. He instantly regretted being so loud, checking his surroundings to make sure that the boys weren't there. An equally exasperated reply came through from the other end. "Thank you, asshole," he cut the call.
"Everything alright?" Dean popped his head around the doorway just then. He passed a shotgun to Bobby as he entered.
"Yeah, we should be good to go," Bobby assured him.
As the three hunters walked in the direction of the van, which Sam used GPS to track, an ominous silence filled the air. It was awfully quiet for an area infested with demons. A mild breeze dragged orphaned leaves and small pieces of paper in its gait. The yellow light from the streetlamps was all they had to guide their path. A rat scurried across the road occasionally. "Just left here," Sam pointed to a crossroad. Just as they turned the corner, their stride was abruptly halted by the sight before them.
"Looking for this?" Esther's sly voice challenged them from atop the vehicle. Her legs dangled demurely off the edge of the roof of the van while a troop of demons stood protectively at its sides. The backdoors of the van were open, revealing the weapons. Obviously, Crowley didn't think that he needed them to fend off a few humans. Big mistake. "What's the matter, Dean? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I kill ghosts for a living," Dean declared firmly, giving her a smug smile. "And witches too, in case you were wondering."
"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you gentlemen to leave," Crowley emerged from the crowd of demons. "You've outstayed your welcome."
"We're not leaving without the weapons," Sam snarled.
"If you haven't noticed, you are far outnumbered," Crowley gestured towards his army. "And by the way, you're welcome for taking care of the Devil." When the hunters stared blankly at him, he elaborated. "Lucifer is not going to be a problem for a very long time, thanks to the brilliance of yours truly."
"Yeah, how?" Dean probed.
"Let's just say he's… trapped. In the bottom of the ocean."
"I don't understand," Sam shook his head, frowning. "If your plan was to face off Lucifer, why go through such trouble to stop us? I thought you wanted to work together?"
"How sentimental of you, Moose," Crowley remarked. A smile crept its way up his lips. "You see, I was happy to work with you because you three were useful as long as you had the weapons. But then, I realised, why sacrifice the freedom of my kind on earth to secure my throne when I could have it all?"
"So all that crap about you not letting demons walk the earth after helping us…?"
"Only applied so long as it was Sophia that we were fighting. We didn't discuss new terms of engagement when Lucifer became the target. Loophole," he stated. "So, I'm only going to ask nicely one more time, for old times' sake. Leave peacefully and we'll go back to the way things should be."
Dean and Bobby exchanged a nod. "Pass," Dean declared, as Bobby's thumb clicked on the 'send' button of his phone discreetly. Suddenly, a loud static filled the air, taking everyone by surprise. Within a second, the discernible sound of Dean's voice blared from every single speaker in the area – every car, every building and even the shipping yard nearby was hacked, playing a pre-recorded exorcism. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…"
Every demon convulsed and screamed, some even going into shaking fits before them. Esther gasped, frantically looking around herself for some semblance of order, but all she found was chaos. The demons were in no shape to fight. Crowley himself was victim to the exorcism, though he seemed to be holding on much better than the others. Taking her chances, she leapt down onto the ground. She expertly landed on her stilettos, standing protectively between the van and the hunters. She stuck her palm out at the hunters, flinging Bobby backwards. She summoned energy again, getting ready to push back the Winchesters too. Dean's hands scrambled into his coat pocket, pulling out the gun loaded with witch-killing bullets. With a moment to spare, he took aim and pulled the trigger. Esther's eyes widened in shock of what was to come but just then, she felt herself being dragged away. The bullet missed her head by a narrow margin. Crowley, holding her arm protectively, clenched his other hand in the air, blowing up the speakers of the van. A cloud of thick, grey smoke filled the front of the van, accompanied by the smell of something burning. As if on cue, demons who had been staking out in the buildings of their immediate surroundings followed Crowley's example, shutting down the speakers in whatever ways they could. The hunters were losing time fast.
Some demons inevitably smoked out, some had no choice but to yield to the exorcism but a good number still remained. Bobby and Sam used their demon-killing blade and angel blade to stab and kill as many demons as they could, providing cover while Dean tried to pull out as many weapons as he could before the van inevitably blew up. "Not so fast!" Esther directed a gust of wind at him, flinging him backwards onto the hard gravel. As Dean coughed from having his breath knocked out of him, he despaired to see the image of an endless stream of demons surrounding his brother and surrogate father. We may not make it, he dreadfully thought. Is this the end? This was suicide. He should have known better. They had severely overestimated their chances. Dean regretted every single choice they made that day, wishing desperately that he could take them back. Yet another loud ringing noise resounded. But this time, the noise had a distinctive bright light accompanying it. Streetlamps flickered and blew out with flying sparks. The demons, who were now recuperating and barely affected by the fading sounds of the exorcism, looked around themselves in curiosity.
A man appeared before Dean. He was blonde, wearing a tank top and baggy shorts as well as flip flops. He even sported a pair of aviators, looking like one of those dudes who practically lived on the beach. Of all the strange entrances he'd witnessed in his life, Dean thought this to be among the top few. Here they were, three hunters fighting for their lives in a suicidal crusade to take powerful weapons away from a large army of demons and a witch, interrupted by a deeply tanned surfer dude. As Dean observed, the surfer dude wasted no time in helping them fight the demons, grasping them by their necks and igniting them from the inside. Dead vessels fell to the ground with ease, leaving burnt-out eye sockets. And as it turned out, surfer guy didn't show up alone. To help him came a punk chic with a Mohawk, a buff Mexican-looking guy, a smartly-dressed man with a van Dyke beard and a long-haired lady in a floral dress. Angels?
At some point, Surfer Guy turned around to Dean and reached out a hand, helping him up. "We can hold them off. You should get your brother and Bobby and leave," the angel ordered.
Dean simply stared in confusion. A hundred questions raced through his mind, but he began with "What about the weapons?"
"We'll take care of them. They belong in Heaven anyway," the angel replied. "There's no time. Go!"
With the angel nudging him towards the other humans, Dean ushered Sam and Bobby and the trio took off in the direction of their vehicles. As they turned the corner, they came face-to-face with a row of demons who were armed with assault rifles. Adrenaline shot through the hunters as they rushed into an empty alley before the volley fire could reach them. Time moved in breakneck speed as they darted from alley to alley in an attempt to get to the Impala unscathed. Bullets rained on them, forcing them to think with instinct as they dodged and sprinted. Finally, as they reached the familiar black car, they squandered little time in getting into the car, though they could not escape the shower of glass from bullets piercing through the windows of the car. Once in the driver seat, Dean stomped on the pedal so hard he worried he might have broken a hole through the floor of the car. But as soon as they were far away enough and the demons appeared like ants in the rear view mirror, the boys heaved a huge sigh of relief, still panting from effort. "That was close," Sam heaved a deep breath.
"Yeah. Don't worry, Bobby, we'll get your ride once this town stops being Hell on earth," Dean added on. There was no sound from the backseat. "Bobby?"
"Bobby!" Sam exclaimed, holding up Bobby's signature baseball cap, which was tossed to the front seat. There was a crimson-bordered hole on the side. As Dean turned to his brother, he saw the look on Sam's face – horrified, speechless and fixated on Bobby. Dean's neck craned to see Bobby, laying still in the backseat, slumped over and with a hole in his forehead from which blood poured out. The older hunter's eyes were open and pallid. "Find a hospital, now," Sam ordered, before Dean could be fully overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation. Through the stinging pain of tears in his eyes, Dean kept his mind focused on his brother's dictum as much as he could.
(Lucifer POV)
Lucifer felt the thick density of seawater enveloping him as he was uncontrollably propelled into the depths of the ocean. He thought at first that it might have been a normal angel-banishing spell but as it turned out, he was very wrong. His path was directed. There was an end to this speedy journey that Crowley had planned beforehand. He continued to struggle in a futile attempt to release himself from this spell, causing large waves to form at the surface of the ocean. Deep sea creatures swam frantically away from him, unwilling to be caught in the radius of his rocket-like trajectory. That was when he noticed the territory he was in. It was all strikingly familiar. Before the pieces could fit together in his head, he was hurled into a deep black pit, full of a soft gooey substance that he remembered but paid little attention to. The wiry appendages of the creatures in this pit pierced into his body, sending waves of pain throughout him. He groaned in agony, caught by surprise by the stinging, piercing assaults of the bloodthirsty creatures.
He gasped in torment, unused to feeling so much pain at once. Salty water filled his lungs in gallons, which he then tried to expel from his vessel's body desperately. The wiry black creatures grasped at his arms, pulling him down deeper into the pit. Using every ounce of strength he could summon, he resisted and scratched at the edge of the pit, labouring to pull himself up. His face contorted in torment as he looked around himself for anything to help him get out of it. But there was nothing, except the ornately-designed pillars of the vault – Sophia's vault. The only thing that stood out was a glowing light from a far wall. It was a sigil. The same one that Crowley drew moments before the spell began to take over him. "You sneaky motherfu-" Lucifer's ramble was cut short by a powerful tug as the creatures of the pit encircled his waist and forcibly drowned him in their energy-draining embrace.
A/N:
Alright, so that was pretty action-packed. A lot of noteworthy things. First off, what does Crowley offer Dr Hess that is so compelling? What's also intriguing is the fact that Bobby seems to have been in league with a certain group of angels (I hope you've guessed by now who they are). Oh and uh… sorry about Bobby. He had to go. But at least he went down fighting! That demon with the mullet, Martin, is the same one who Lucifer assigned to personally watch Zara during the apocalypse. Evidently, the demon has some distaste for her. He's one of those annoying characters who you wonder why no one has killed off yet.
Not to worry, Lucifer isn't dead. He can't be killed that easily. But where he is right now, he probably wishes for death. Or maybe he never feels that way. Maybe his anger keeps him alive. But the point is, his current disposition buys precious time for everyone else. It's amazing how the fate of one character can affect what the other characters do in such profound ways, even if they don't know it. Oh and just to be clear, the doors to the vault are permanently busted open – they have been ever since Zara opened them. That's how Crowley got in and drew the sigil he needed for the spell. Obviously, he's done some digging into Sophia to get to know his enemy better. Gotta give him props for that.
And in case you were wondering about the spell, one sigil is drawn in the intended destination and another on the sacrificial person (the demon). After the spell is performed and energy is harvested by the witch, the fulfilment of the sacrifice charges the sigils and the target angel is banished to where the destination was demarcated. This was all recorded by the British Men of Letters in their experiments on angelic subjects.
