A/N: Yeah, I'm still here. A bit tired, a bit discouraged from the recent Supernatural news. But that will not keep me from bringing this fic through its full story. There is plenty more to come and I promise you I will be here after season 15 comes to a close. I have a lot of catching up to do and I hope some of you are patient enough to bare with me. If you're still here I just want you to know that I really, really appreciate you. More than you know. Thanks for the continued support. Here's a nice, long chapter for you. A chapter that survived a rewrite due to a hard-drive crash and managed to get finished before the majority of assigned college work I have piled up in my room. Hope you enjoy, and let me know if you do.

~NerdAngel

Chapter 21: Hell in a Handgun

The drive to Sioux Falls seems longer than a few hours. The time alone to my thoughts finally allows the past two hellish days to catch up with me. I manage to call Mike and tell him part of the situation without breaking down. I still leave out the major parts: Sam dying, Dean making a deal, this whole demon children thing. But, I tell him there is something big brewing and I'm heading to Bobby Singer's with the Winchesters. That is the truth. Of course he offers to come help, but I assure him we have it, and if we don't, I'll call. I know he knows I'm keeping something from him, I hear it in his voice. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if he did show up at Bobby's, but, for now, I can't worry about that. I am relieved I'm not connected with this yellow-eyed demon. If anything remotely good came out of the past two days, it was that one piece of information. However, the one positive aspect pales in comparison to everything else. I had to watch, helplessly, as someone lost their sibling. Because of that, yet again, someone I'm close to is going to Hell. As bad things usually come in threes, I'm waiting for the third thing. Although, the other two events are plenty bad enough on their own. I start to think about my conversation with Dean. I meant what I said to him. It wasn't out of anger or out of sheer emotional overload, I meant every word. I've watched people I care about sacrifice themselves, sell their souls, too many times. I can't handle going through that again. I'm not strong enough.

We eventually turn off of the road and into a large lot with a sign that reads "Singer Auto Salvage." The property is riddled with old, rusted cars and scrap metal. It isn't until we pull the large salvage yard that I realize Bobby doesn't know about Sam. I don't know much about Bobby, but if he's anything to Sam and Dean like Mike is to me, he's going to be furious. I'm betting he is, which means I won't be the last one to give Dean an earful today. Based on what Mike has told me, I'm sure Bobby would have found something on this demon by now. Even Mike considers him an expert on lore, which is saying something. We stop the cars in front of an old, two-story house near the back of the lot.

"Thanks for coming, Lara, we really can use all the help we can get with this," Sam says as we walk up to the front door.

"Of course," I say with a smile.

I make eye contact with Dean for a moment, but neither of us say a word. It may only be a matter of minutes before his story falls apart. Sam isn't an idiot, and neither is Bobby. I stand to the side of Sam and Dean as Sam knocks on the door. When Bobby opens the door, he instantly freezes, looking between the two brothers, and then at Dean.

"Hey, Bobby," Dean says, his head hanging downward.

"Hey, Bobby," Sam says with more energy.

"Sam," Bobby says slowly. "It's good to...see you up and around."

"Yeah, well, thanks for patching me up," Sam says, patting Bobby on the shoulder as he walks into the house.

"Don't mention it," Bobby says, looking to Dean when Sam's back is turned.

Dean walks past Bobby, still refusing to look him in the eye.

"Well, Sam's better, and we're back in it now, so...what do you know?" Dean asks, still barely looking at Bobby.

Bobby, however, hasn't taken his eyes off of Dean. If I hadn't looked at Dean in almost the same way earlier, I might be more disturbed by the tension between them. I look over and see that Sam is looking at both of them with a very confused expression. Like I said, he isn't an idiot.

We move into the living room area, where a bunch of books and maps are scattered everywhere. The interior of the house looks much like what I imagine Mike's place would look like if I didn't live with him. Hunters aren't exactly the housekeeping type.

"Well, I found something," Bobby says, "but- I'm not sure what the hell it means."

"What is it?" Sam asks.

"Demonic omens, like a freakin' tidal wave, cattle deaths, lightning storms. They've skyrocketed out of nowhere. Here," Bobby says.

He unfolds a map on the table beside us and points to Wyoming.

"All around here, except for one place...southern Wyoming."

"Wyoming?" Dean asks.

"Yeah. The one area's totally clean, spotless. It's almost as if-"

"What?" Sam urges when Bobby hesitates.

"-the demons are surrounding it."

"But you don't know why?" Dean asks.

"No, and by this point my eyes are swimmin'. Sam, Lara, would you take a look at it? Maybe you two can catch something I couldn't."

"Yeah, sure," Sam says.

I nod, have a good idea about what Bobby really wants. He looks back at Dean, keeping his eyes on him as he grabs his jacket.

"Come on, Dean, I got some more books in the truck. Help me lug 'em in."

Dean looks resigned as he watches Bobby walk out.

"Yeah," he says after Bobby, following farther behind him.

He catches my eye for a moment before I very slightly purse my lips and look away from him. I certainly am not going to save him from this. Bobby has every right to be angry with him.

Sam and I sit at the table, looking at the map and other papers Bobby has gathered in relation to the demonic activity. Other than what Bobby already said, there isn't much to see. Even though this was just an excuse for him to get Dean alone, it still doesn't hurt to have another set of eyes looking things over. After a few minutes, Sam looks toward the door, probably wondering what is taking Bobby and Dean so long. Bobby is giving Dean one hell of a talking to, not that I blame him.

"Sam," I say, trying to distract him before he can get too suspicious.

"Yeah?"

"I just- I'm sorry."

"For what?"

He puts the book he was looking at aside.

"I couldn't stop it. I should have- I don't know- seen it coming...something. But I didn't. I just...froze."

Guilt. That was the other emotion I almost couldn't place because of the others. Just as the demon said in my last vision, I couldn't stop any of it. I couldn't stop Sam from dying. Just as I couldn't stop Dean from making that deal to bring him back. All because I couldn't stop the vision from coming true.

"You did all you could. You told me what you saw, but I didn't think- so much happened in Cold Oak, I honestly never would have seen it coming anyway. You don't have to apologize."

"But you- you almost died."

"Yeah, but I didn't. I'm fine."

I try not to react to that.

"It's not your fault. Please, don't blame yourself. The only ones to blame here are the demon and Jake. Once we find them and stop them, this will all be over."

Stopping the demon won't change the fact that Dean is hell-bound. Nothing will, nothing even can. I nod and look back at one of the books.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I say.

It isn't much longer before I hear the back door open. Bobby and Dean walk in...along with a woman I have never seen before. Sam instantly recognizes her, though he seems surprised to see her.

"Ellen?" he asks, rising to his feet.

I recognize the name, from when Dean told Sam about all the people they thought died at the Roadhouse. I get up from the table and stand over by Sam and Dean, while Bobby sits Ellen down at the table. He walks over to a cabinet and pulls out a metal flask and bottle of whiskey. Bobby sits down across from Ellen, pouring water from the flask into a shot glass and sliding it across the table to Ellen.

"Bobby, is this really necessary?" she asks, picking up the shot glass.

"It's just a belt of holy water, shouldn't hurt," Bobby says.

She drinks the shot of holy water and, thankfully, nothing happens. She looks at Bobby, seemingly annoyed.

"Whiskey now, if you don't mind," she says, sliding the shot glass back to Bobby.

"Ellen, what happened? How'd you get out?" Dean asks.

I didn't see her in my vision, so I'm also curious to hear her answer.

"I wasn't supposed to. I was supposed to be in there with everybody else."

She scoffs, shaking her head.

"But we ran out of pretzels, of all things."

Bobby slides the shot of whiskey to her. The atmosphere of the room shifts darkly as she continues her story.

"It was just dumb luck," she says, taking the shot. "Anyway, that's when Ash called, panic in his voice. He told me to look in the safe...and then the call cut out. By the time I got back, the flames were sky-high. Everybody was dead. I couldn't have been gone more than fifteen minutes."

Sam and Dean both shift uncomfortably. I stare at the floor, remembering the fight in my vision, the demons. It was an absolute nightmare...and she knew those people.

"Sorry, Ellen," Sam says.

"A lot of good people died in there," she says, tearing up. "And I got to live. Lucky me."

"Ellen, you mentioned a safe-" Bobby starts.

"A hidden safe we keep in the basement."

"Demons get what was in it?"

"No," she answers, reaching into her jacket.

She pulls out a map and unfolds it, handing it to Dean. He smooths it out on the table in front of where he's sitting. It's a map of Wyoming with five black "X" marks drawn on it in marker. They lay out in a circular shape.

"Wyoming. What does that mean?" Dean asks, tracing over the black marks with his hand.

Since no one, not even Ellen, knows what the marks on the map mean, Bobby tells us to start going through the books. We look for anything related to that area of Wyoming. After a while, it's clear that everyone is getting discouraged. I've flipped through about a hundred pages of the book Bobby handed me and found nothing. The same goes for everyone else. I could tell you about the religious demographic of Wyoming in the 19th century, but nothing about what those black marks mean. I glance up from the pages occasionally, catching Dean's glance a few times. I can hardly bare to look him in the eye, even now. Now that my initial frustration with his decision has had a chance to settle, I realize that I'm scared. I'm scared for him. Anger was easier to shield myself with. I sit down on the wood floor of the living room. I prop myself up on the wall, pull my knees up, and place the book open on my thighs. I think better sitting like this and we need all the brainpower we can get right now. Besides, from this position it is a lot harder to meet Dean's eyes again. I tug the edges of my sleeves down farther, over my hands. Feeling vulnerable is not my favorite thing in the world.

A few minutes later, Bobby walks in from the other room carrying an open book.

"I don't believe it," he says.

He places the book down on the table Dean is sitting at. Everyone starts to circle around the table, so I get up, placing my book on a stack next to me.

"What? You got something?" Sam says almost enthusiastically.

I don't blame him, we've had our noses stuck in old books for almost an hour with nothing to show for it.

"A lot more than that," Bobby says as we all peer down at the book.

"Each of these X's is an abandoned frontier church-" Bobby says, tracing the map with his finger, "- all mid-19th century and all of them built by Samuel Colt."

"Samuel Colt- the demon killing, gun-making Samuel Colt?" Dean asks.

Before I can even wonder why Dean was so serious about a hunter's myth, Bobby moves on.

"Yep. And there's more. He built private railway lines connecting church to church-" Bobby says, pointing at the respective locations on the map, "It just happens to lay out like this."

With each word, he draws a line between each of the X's with a black marker. The shape becomes familiar almost immediately.

"Tell me that's not what I think it is," Dean says.

"It's a Devil's Trap," Sam says almost in awe, "a hundred-square-mile Devil's Trap."

"The scale alone...that's genius," I manage to get out, while still trying to process it.

"That's brilliant. Iron lines demons can't cross," Dean says.

"I never heard of anything that massive," Ellen adds.

"No one has," Bobby says.

"And after all these years, none of the lines are broken? I mean, it still works?" Dean says.

"Definitely," Sam says all of a sudden.

"How do you know?" Dean says skeptically.

"All those omens Bobby found," Sam says with a small smirk, "I mean, the demons, they must be circling and they can't get in."

"Yeah...well, they're trying," Bobby comments.

"Why? What's inside?" Ellen asks.

"Well, that's what I've been looking for and, uh, there's nothing except an old cowboy cemetery right in the middle," Dean adds, pointing at the map.

I fold my arms across my chest, scrutinizing the spot where Dean points.

"Never heard of that one-" I say almost under my breath.

"What's so important about a cemetery or...what's Colt trying to protect?" Sam asks.

"Well, unless…" Dean trails off, unsettled.

"Unless what?" Bobby asks.

I do not like where Dean is heading with this. The alternative to protecting something or keeping something out is much worse.

"What if Colt wasn't trying to keep the demons out? What if he was trying to keep something in?"

There it is, the worst alternative.

"That's a comforting thought," Ellen mocks.

"Yeah, you think?" Dean responds.

"Could they do it, Bobby? Could they get in?" Sam says, clearly worried.

"This thing's so powerful, you'd practically need an A-bomb to destroy it. No way a full-blood demon gets across."

For a moment everyone else looks relieved, but almost immediately Sam's expression turns grim.

"No," he says, "but I know who could."

If no else could beat me to it, I would absolutely love to put a bullet in that piece of crap Jake Talley. According to what Sam is thinking, I may get the chance. He starts telling everyone how he thinks the yellow-eyed demon would use Jake to get across the Devil's Trap, but my mind is still stuck on the concept of the Samuel Colt legends being real. By now, I've missed most of what Sam has said, hopefully some of it is stuff he already told me and Dean. Bobby, Ellen, and Sam start to pack bags with mostly salt, holy water, shotguns...all demon-specific weapons. Before I realize I'm just standing idly in the middle of the floor, Dean walks over to me.

"Hey, looked like you zoned out there for a bit, you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," I say quickly. "I'll just be glad when this is all over."

Some of my residual frustration is still coming out, apparently. I walk off, realizing that came off harsher than I intended. I push open the front door, hoping some fresh air will help clear my head. I walk over to my car and lean on the trunk, letting my head hang between my arms. It has been a long time since I've been this exhausted, mentally and physically. I close my eyes, trying to lose myself in the slight breeze that has picked up. If all of this chaos wasn't happening right now, I'd probably be at Mike's enjoying the nice weather. With my eyes still closed, I hear someone walking toward my car.

"Dean, I swear, if you don't let me have this one moment of peace-" I say, before opening my eyes to see it isn't Dean. "Oh, Sam, sorry."

"Hey, are you okay? If this is too much, you really don't have to help us," Sam says.

I smile, laughing shortly.

"If I said I was 'okay', I'd be lying. It's a lot, sure, but I still want to help."

He nods, but I don't think he's entirely convinced.

"Come on, I already dealt with the fact that there's a demon with yellow eyes. Not to mention, that the same demon infected children with demon blood to give them special powers. And now we're about to go into a giant hundred-mile Devil's Trap made by the man who supposedly also made a legendary gun that could kill any monster ever imagined. My father used to tell me and my brother stories about Samuel Colt. I mean that part alone makes me want to go."

Sam looks at me with a knowing grin.

"They aren't just stories," he says.

"What?"

"Samuel Colt did make the Colt. That gun, from the stories, it actually exists."

I raise an eyebrow at him, giving him a skeptical look.

He laughs, "I swear it does. Dean and I actually had it for a while. We lost it not too long before we met you."

"Lost it?"

"Well, we're pretty sure the demon has it…"

I laugh, "So there is a way to kill the demon...but the demon has it."

"...Yeah."

I shake my head and start loading my bag. Realizing I can't be convinced so easily, Sam smiles in defeat and leaves. It doesn't take long for all of us to get our gear packed and loaded into our cars. Bobby and Ellen lead in Bobby's truck, Sam and Dean follow them in the Impala, and I bring up the end of our little caravan.

The drive to Wyoming takes nearly the rest of the night. Alone in my car with only my own thoughts, I try to focus on the task in front of me. Thinking about the past few days is still far too painful. Though, that doesn't stop a single thought from crossing my mind, a single thought more powerful than the rest. Is every person I care about doomed to die at the hands of a stupid demon deal? Even if we succeed in stopping Jake tonight, that won't change anything about Dean's fate. Nothing can. Anger washes over me again, replacing my moment of sadness. Sacrifice is so noble unless you think about the people you're leaving behind. They never think about the people they leave behind. I take one hand off the wheel and massage my forehead, as if I could force out the thoughts this way. It starts to rain a few hours into the drive and doesn't let up. I watch the clear, silvery viens of rainwater weave their way across my windshield. The sound of the drops pelting down on the hood of my car distracts me somewhat. Suddenly, a random thought hits me: I have no clue how I'm going to explain this all to Mike. Not without him being seriously pissed at me for keeping it from him. Given the circumstances, he may not be as angry as I'd expect. I grip the steering wheel tighter and set my eyes on the Impala's tail lights. Now isn't the time to be focusing on these things. This night could prove to be a lot more dangerous than any of us expect, and, truth be told, it probably will be.

The rain only lets up moments before the old cemetery comes into view. It is still down a winding road some ways, so we pull the cars off to the side and out of sight. The last thing we need is to give away our element of surprise. I trade my shotgun for my .45. Judging by the arrangement of the cemetery, this fight is going to be up close and personal. Personal in about every sense of the word. Without so much as a word to one another, we all make our way up to the cemetery. It is clear everyone, including myself, is expecting to find Jake Talley already here and acting out Yellow Eyes' plans. But as we approach the first line of tombstones, there isn't a sign that anyone has been here recently, let alone in the past century. The wild, tangled underbrush is overgrown around the odd assortment of tombstones and the wet ground looks undisturbed. A single, small mausoleum stands toward the back of the plot. It also looks as though a single person hasn't touched it since it was built. Upon closer inspection, the iron doors to the mausoleum have odd, circular markings in the middle of them. In the middle of the centermost circle is an oddly shaped hole. The weird markings make us all feel that if Jake were to end up anywhere in this cemetery, this would be the place.

"Looks like we beat him here," Bobby says, his voice still hushed.

"A damn miracle," Dean responds.

"Yeah, but he could turn up any minute," Sam says. "We need to hide."

"Sure, Sam, let me just tuck my ass behind one of these headstones," Dean says. "That'll work."

"What's stopping you? Scared of stepping on dead people?" I smirk.

It doesn't even occur to me in this moment that this is the first time I've joked with him since before Sam died.

"It isn't great cover, but it's the only option we have," Ellen says.

Ellen is right, even though the underbrush is thick, it isn't thick enough to hide any of us. Some of the tombstones are large enough for even Sam to fit behind, the rest of us should have no problem. We quickly get behind the tombstones closest to the mausoleum, positioning ourselves so that we can have Jake surrounded.

We wait behind the tombstones for what seems like nearly an hour. Without being able to move around, the cold air starts to seep through my layers almost immediately. My fingers start to go numb, making me adjust my grip on my pistol far more than I should. Just when I start to think maybe we've got the wrong place, I hear footsteps. I tuck myself as tight as I can behind the large tombstone, straining my ears to listen. The footsteps get closer and I carefully shimmy around the other side of the tombstone as they pass me. I hear the footsteps stop somewhere up by the mausoleum.

"Howdy, Jake," I hear Sam say.

Taking the cue, I move around from behind the tombstone and aim my gun at the man standing in front of the mausoleum. There is no mistaking that this is the man I saw in my visions and at Cold Oak. Without warning, the image of him stabbing Sam in the back flashes before my eyes. I push that out of my head and keep my aim steady. Dean is directly to my right and Ellen, Bobby, and Sam are to his, all of us forming a semi-circle around Jake. With the mausoleum to his back and five guns pointed at his front, there is nowhere for him to go.

Jake's eyes widen, but not because he's been surrounded. Even though I was the one who told Dean this would happen if he wasn't honest with Sam, it doesn't keep my stomach from dropping when Jake finally opens his mouth.

"Wait...you were dead. I killed you," he says looking directly at Sam.

"Yeah?" Sam says, smirking. "Well, next time finish the job."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dean shift uncomfortably. Sam doesn't deserve to find out this way, but with Dean being like he was, there was no avoiding this.

"I did!" Jake says firmly. "I cut clean through your spinal cord, man."

Sam hesitates and the tension between everyone increases tenfold. Sam's head tilts in my direction as he looks sideways at Dean. Dean avoids his brother's eyes.

"You can't be alive," Jake states. "You can't be."

"Okay, just take it real easy there, son," Bobby says.

"And if I don't?" Jake challenges.

"Wait and see!" Sam says.

"What, you a tough guy all of a sudden?" Jake taunts Sam.

If everything didn't balance on the head of a pin right now, I'd put my entire clip into this guy.

"What are you gonna do- kill me?" Jake asks Sam.

"It's a thought," Sam fires back.

"You had your chance. You couldn't."

"I won't make that mistake twice."

Sam is holding his gun tightly, leveling it with Jake's head. Jake starts to laugh and I see Dean tense up even more beside me.

"What are you smiling at, you little bitch?" Dean says angrily.

Jake doesn't respond and instead looks at Ellen.

"Hey, lady, do me a favor. Put that gun to your head," he says.

Ellen starts to tremble, but slowly she brings her own gun around on herself, pointing it at her head. I look nervously to everyone else, but keep my gun trained on Jake. Having visions is one thing, but having suggestive power over people is another. Sam said the other people the demon picked had very different powers, but he never said anything about Jake being able to do this.

"See, that Ava girl was right. Once you give into it, there's all sorts of new Jedi mind tricks you can learn," Jake says.

"Let her go!" Sam says.

"Shoot him," Ellen manages, forcing the words out shakily.

"You'll be mopping up skull before you get a shot off," Jake taunts. "Everyone put your guns down."

"Except you, sweetheart," he adds to Ellen.

I look over to Dean, who doesn't look anywhere near dropping his gun. Bobby is the first to drop his gun and, seeing this, I immediately drop mine. Dean lowers his grudgingly, staring daggers at Jake. Sam is the last to take his gun off Jake, dropping it into the grass at his feet.

"Okay...than you," Jake says smugly.

He suddenly turns to the mausoleum behind him, pulling something from his pant pocket. Bobby and Dean rush for Ellen pulling her apart from her gun. I dive to the ground as it fires in my direction. As I look up at the mausoleum, Jake has stuffed something into the hole in the doors. Before I can even tell what it is, four gunshots go off and Jake jerks violently as bullets rip into his shoulder and back. I slowly get up as Jake falls backwards to the ground. Sam is standing behind where Jake stood, gun in hand. He walks around and stands over Jake. I hear Jake gasping in pain as he holds up a hand toward Sam. I flinch as Sam fires off three more shots into Jake, an odd look in his eye.

There is an odd clicking sound coming from the mausoleum doors. I get up and walk over, as do Bobby, Dean, and Ellen. Bobby looks like he's in complete shock as he passes Sam. The clicking is getting louder and louder, resembling the noise of a bank vault unlocking. Dean stops in front of Sam, looking at him in disbelief. Though the final shots did seem a bit excessive, I don't blame Sam for doing that. I'd be pissed to if someone tried, and succeeded, in killing me because of some demon. I walk past Sam and Dean, looking at the mausoleum doors. There is a long-barreled pistol wedged into the hole like a key in a lock, presumably what Jake had pulled from his pocket. The rings on the doors are spinning rapidly and finally stop, revealing their odd shape to be that of a completed pentagram. More specifically, a Devil's Trap.

"Oh no," Bobby says, looking at the doors.

The way he says it sends chills through me.

"Bobby, what is it?" Ellen says behind him.

"It's hell," Bobby says.

I don't think I've ever heard him sound scared. Dean walks up and yanks the gun out of the hole. Bobby turns and starts to run, yelling, "Take cover- Now!"

We all run for it, splitting off and diving behind some of the headstones as the doors band loudly. All of a sudden there's a sharp crack, like the sound of lightning and a sound like high, whistling winds. Seconds later, everything is shrouded in darkness.

A/N: I do have this summer off from college, so I hope to be better about posting. But if you've stuck with me this long you know I tend to neglect my promises. All I'll say is that I will try my very hardest to keep to it this time.