Chapter 22: Fallout

It doesn't take long for the darkness to lift, but the chaos doesn't end there. Thunder rumbles in the dark clouds above and lightning strikes every few seconds. A few pillars of thick, black smoke stream by every few seconds, disappearing up into the sky. Demons. I can't see Dean, Sam, Bobby, or Ellen from where I am. They're all hidden somewhere behind me, hopefully. The noise of the thunder and high-pitched whistling of the air drowns out everything else, until I hear a loud shout from directly behind me.

"What the hell just happened!?"

It's Dean.

"That's a Devil's Gate! A damn door to hell!" I hear Ellen respond over the noise.

I remember reading about Devil's Gates a long time ago, but never did I think I'd be faced with one. Every second those mausoleum doors are open, the more demons, spirits, and who knows what else are escaping into the world. But if we move, there's no guarantee we won't be killed instantly. The only thing that seems to be saving us now is that the demons are more concerned with escaping than the five humans in the graveyard. Guns are pointless and the collective arsenal our cars is too far away.

"Come on! We gotta shut that gate!" Ellen finally yells.

I peer over the tombstone I'm hiding behind and see Ellen and Bobby make a break for the mausoleum. Seconds later Sam and Dean get up from behind another tombstone and run after them.

"Lord, help us all," I mutter under my breath.

Steeling myself, I get up from behind the tombstone and follow the others.

I don't get very far before nearly plowing into Dean, who has stopped halfway to the mausoleum. He's holding the gun Jake used to unlock the Gate, checking the barrel for bullets.

"What are you doing!?" I shout at him.

Sam, Bobby, and Ellen are trying desperately to close the doors up ahead, but are struggling with it. They are all throwing their entire body weight into the doors, but the doors barely move.

"If the demon gave this to Jake, the maybe…" Dean says, trailing off.

I hear a footstep behind me and turn, only to see a man who I don't recognize. He grins maliciously and I freeze when I see his eyes.

"Dean!" I yell.

The cry hardly gets past my lips before I'm forced to the ground under invisible pressure. I try to force myself up, but it's impossible. Dean pivots and aims the gun directly at the demon's face. The demon holds his hand up and forces the gun from Dean's hand into his own with his powers.

"A boy shouldn't play with daddy's guns," the demon says before using his powers to throw Dean halfway across the graveyard.

I hear a thud as Dean collides with the ground, but I still can't move. The demon walks away in the direction of where Dean fell. I try to dig my feet into the ground to get more leverage, but my legs feel like they weigh a ton. Somehow, I feel a small flicker in the demon's power and manage to grab hold of the top of the tombstone next to me. With all the strength I can muster, I manage to pull myself to my feet, using the tombstone to balance. The demon is still approaching Dean, the gun in his hand. I try to follow, but every step is more difficult than the last. About twenty feet away, I see Dean sprawled out on the ground with a large, bloody gash in his forehead. Though I know it will do nothing, I pull my pistol from my belt and fire off a few rounds at the demon's back. If anything, it'll buy Dean more time to get upright. It could also possibly be the last thing I do. The demon stops and slowly turns to face me. He looks annoyed more than anything.

"How did you- You know what? Doesn't matter," he says and swipes his hand in my direction.

The same invisible force plows into my side with so much force it knocks me through one of the large, cement tombstones. I hit the ground hard, my breath knocked out of me for a moment as chunks of cement tumble on top of me.

Blood soaks through my shirt and ripped left pant leg from the -no doubt- numerous cuts and scrapes in my arm and leg. I gasp for air, coughing when I inhale a good amount of cement dust. I lie there on my back, no strength left in me to get up. My ears are ringing and I taste blood on my lips. Thankfully that tombstone was a couple centuries old and gave under the force. If it hadn't I'd be far worse off than a good number of cuts and bruises. The demon is nowhere within my limited sight, which worries me a little less than it should. My mind is still reeling from the dull, throbbing pain I feel all over, but I slowly start to brush the remnants of the tombstone off of me. Every movement makes the pain worse, causing me to groan almost involuntarily. Unfortunately, Dean is on his own. Not that even two of us could have taken the demon. Without most of our normal hunting gear, there isn't much to do against a demon like this. Black spots flash before my eyes as I roll myself over and prop myself up on my elbows. I take a deep breath and try not to focus on the pain as I push myself onto my knees. Baby steps. Regardless of the practicality of it, I have to help Dean. The fear I acted on through anger earlier is nothing but plain fear now. Dean may be hell-bound, but he won't die to tonight. Not if I can do anything about it. The pillars of demon smoke are still streaming by, telling me that Bobby, Ellen, and Sam have yet to close the doors. I take another deep breath and progress from a kneel to standing in a few ragged movements. The first thing I see is the demon standing over Dean, still a good fifteen or twenty feet from me. As I limp toward them, my left leg refusing to take much weight, I also see that Sam is no longer at the doors. He is pinned against a tree, presumably by the demon's powers, a few feet from Dean. A gun fires and I desperately limp the next few feet way faster, praying it wasn't the demon who fired. My prayers are answered pretty quickly as I watch red, electric energy pulse through the demon. He falls to the ground, motionless.

Sam slides to the ground, suddenly being released from the demon's powers. To my surprise, even as Dean gets up, he and Sam are not even focused on the demon. Instead, their eyes look to another man standing in the graveyard. The tall, dark-haired man is dressed in the same canvas-type jacket Dean always favors. He smiles at Dean and approaches him, placing a hand on his shoulder. I would never have guessed this was John Winchester, had I not seen and recognized the look in both Sam's and Dean's eyes. I stand silently off to the side and watch Sam and his father exchange nods. Then, as quickly as he appeared, their father backs up from them and starts to glow with a bright energy, his form flickering and disappearing. I smile, a touch of envy going through me before the pain takes over again.

I walk over toward the demon after Sam and Dean, hoping to get a better idea of what just happened. I stay back from the two brothers for now, realizing the gravity of the impossible task they just accomplished. But that doesn't stop me from seeing the still-smoking hole in the demon's shoulder. I guess I owe Sam an apology for not entirely believing him about the Colt. It's at this moment I also realize I haven't seen a streak of demon smoke in a while. I turn around for a moment and see Bobby and Ellen walking toward us, the doors to the Devil's Gate firmly shut behind them.

"Well, check that off the to-do list," Dean says as he looks down on the demon.

"You did it," Sam says, smiling.

"I didn't do it alone."

"Do you think Dad really- you think he really climbed out of hell?"

"The door was open. If anyone's stubborn enough to do it... it'd be him," Dean says, walking around the demon to stand beside his brother.

"Where do you think he is now?"

"I don't know."

"I kind of can't believe it, Dean. I mean...our whole lives, everything...has been preparing for this, and now I... I kind of don't know what to say."

"I do."

I watch as Dean crouches down next to the demon, looking into his dead eyes.

"That was for our mom...you son of a bitch."

Bobby and Ellen come up behind me and the three of us stand there for a moment, watching Sam and Dean. The brothers take another few looks at the demon, as if they still can't believe what they'd done, and finally walk over to us. I give them a reassuring smile. Though it probably isn't very reassuring, considering the blood flowing down the side of my mouth from my split lip. We're all pretty battered in one way or another, but at least we're all alive.

"Looks like you were telling the truth," I say to Sam.

He smiles.

"Looks like you're pretty damn indestructible," Dean comments to me.

I shrug and look down at myself, "What-this? You should see the other guy."

This gets a short chuckle from everyone, even Dean. The corner of my mouth twists into a smile.

"You're going to have one hell of a headache," Bobby says to Dean.

Dean dabs at the blood on his forehead with his shirt sleeve and winces.

"I already do," he says with a grim smile.

We all start to walk back to our cars. I get along a little slower than everyone else, but Bobby and Ellen hang back to make sure I'm okay. I watch as Dean dabs his forehead again and Sam walks quickly up behind him, both of them stopping next to the Impala. Once they're out of earshot, I turn to Bobby as we continue to walk.

"Bobby, I tried to stop him," I say looking ahead at Dean.

"You know well as I do that nothin' was gonna stop him," Bobby says, shaking his head.

"Maybe we should walk a bit slower," I say quietly, seeing Sam and Dean talking up ahead.

Bobby looks up too and nods, "Sam's no idiot, he was bound to figure it out sometime."

"That's what I tried to tell Dean."

"What are you two on about?" Ellen asks from behind us.

Bobby and I stop, looking at one another.

"Please tell me Dean didn't do what I think he did," Ellen says.

I can hear the worry in her tone. Our hesitation answers her question.

"God, he had to go and be just like his old man, didn't he? Yeah, I heard what that kid said back there. I'm no idiot either. It wasn't hard to piece together."

For a second, I think I see tears in her eyes.

We take as long as we can and finally come up on Sam and Dean as they're done talking.

"Well...yellow-eyed demon might be dead, but a lot more got through that gate," Ellen says.

"How many, you think?" Dean asks like he doesn't want to know the answer.

"Hundred...maybe two hundred," Sam says. "It's an army. He's unleashed an army."

"Hope to hell you boys are ready," Bobby says. "'Cause the war's just begun."

"Well, then..." Dean says with a smile.

He opens the trunk to the Impala and tosses the Colt inside.

"We got work to do," he says, closing the trunk.

I walk over to my own car and toss my gun on the passenger seat. When I turn around, Sam is beside me. I look over and see Dean talking to Bobby and Ellen by the Impala.

"You knew...didn't you?" Sam says to me.

I nod, looking downward because I still can't bare to look him in the eye.

"Sam, I...when you- came back, I didn't want to be the one to tell you. I couldn't. I tried to stop Dean, Sam, I won't lie. Not that I didn't want you to- I've just been down this road before. It never ends well. And I thought Dean would tell you when he got back. When he didn't, I told him to. I knew you'd want to hear it from him."

He nods and I finally look up at him.

"It doesn't get any easier...does it?" he asks.

"No. I wish I could say it does...but, I don't want to lie to you. You just have to learn to live with it. Try to convince yourself that you couldn't have changed anything. That helps a bit. Blaming yourself...blaming them...it doesn't do any good. Just-"

My voice breaks and tears well up in my eyes.

"Just...make the most of your time with him."

Sam's jaw tightens and I see tears slide down the side of his face.

"Sorry," I say. "I know this is-"

"It's fine," Sam says, wiping his face with the corner of his sleeve.

Dean walks over a few moments later, oblivious to our conversation. He looks at me first.

"Sure you're okay?" he asks.

"Yeah. Fine," I say, shifting my weight off my left leg.

I think Sam senses some of the same tension between us and cuts in.

"Well, at least we have someone else to help with the demon army."

I force a small smile, "Yeah."

"Really? You're going to help?" Dean asks.

"Of course I'm going to help. A demon army out there in the world...we need all the hunters we can get on this."

For a moment, I think Dean believes I've changed my mind.

"I'm going to go back to Mike's. I'll tell him what happened. He has a lot of contacts, we'll get every hunter we know on this."

Dean's expression softens when he realizes what I'm saying. He looks me in the eye and I immediately look away. Apparently Sam also notices this.

"Wait, you're not- you're welcome to come with us. We make a pretty damn good team…" he says.

"We do…" I smile ruefully, "but I think it's best to spread our skills wherever we can. Cover more ground."

He looks at Dean, who also avoids eye contact.

"Yeah," he says, his voice cracking slightly. "No, she's right, Sammy. There aren't enough of us as it is. Spreading out will deal with more demons than three of us on one case."

"But...we'll see you again, right?" Sam asks.

"Yeah- sure," I answer quickly, probably too quickly. "I mean we've already run into each other by accident a few times. It's bound to happen again. But, if you find you boys can't handle a case...just give me a call."

I smile mischievously, finally getting Sam and Dean to lighten up a bit.

"Yeah, same goes to you," Dean says.

"See you two around, then," I say walking around to the driver's side door. "And- I'm happy for you. Taking care of that demon...you deserved that win."

I stow my gun under the passenger seat and start the engine. Sam and Dean wave as I pull away, and I find myself wondering if I believe my own words.

The drive back to Mike's feels different this time. Not only have I spent the past few days lying to him, I'm finally going to have to explain everything that has happened. He's going to be upset to say the least. It's nothing he won't eventually forgive, but there is one thing he certainly won't be quick to let go. Every inch of me is still hurting in some way. In hindsight, it was unwise to make such a long trip back with what just happened. But there was no way I was adding another night to this godforsaken trip. It isn't until I find myself outside Denver that I realize I have no choice. I'm passing my third night without sleep and still have another seven hours to drive. I'm barely able to keep my eyes open as it is and the constant aching all over isn't helping. I stop at the very next hotel I come across. Luckily it isn't a very nice one because the woman at the desk merely gives me an odd look before putting in my information and giving me a key. I'd almost forgotten I look like the victim of a horrible crash. I only take a small bag from my car into the room. I rinse the blood and grime off of me before stitching up some of the larger cuts on my left leg and above my hip. My left leg is already bruising from the knee down and my ankle looks like it's swelling. The majority of me is covered in bandages by the time I'm through. I toss on some loose clothes and sink heavily into the bed.

I'm standing back on that street in Cold Oak, but this time I'm the one driving the knife into Sam's back. I try to let go, but I can't. The rain pours from above and lightning flashes. There is a deep rumbling that sounds, at first, like thunder. Sam stands up and pulls the knife from his back.

"Why didn't you stop it?" he asks flatly.

I open my mouth to say I didn't want this to happen, but no words come out. The ground shakes beneath my feet at the rumbling grows louder. Fissures open up in the ground, spitting fire and rocks from their depths. I fall to my hands and knees. Suddenly, Dean is beside me, falling through one of the fissures. I try to reach out and grab his outstretched hand, but I'm too far away.

"You could have stopped all of this!" Dean yells up at me as he falls.

A surge of emotion finally overwhelms me and I manage to break through my silence.

"NO!"

My own scream echoes inside my head and a blinding, white light engulfs the whole scene. Everything goes black and I fall into a deeper, dreamless sleep.

Pain shoots through my body, jolting me awake. I realize immediately that I rolled over onto my left side in my sleep. I shift myself onto my back and stare up at the ceiling of the hotel room. Sunlight is beaming through the thin curtains. Outside, people are talking in the hallway. I turn my head to the side and glance at the bedside clock. I was hardly asleep four hours, but it'll have to do. The weird hybrid of my vision and a nightmare caused an unsettling feeling in me. I feel like I couldn't sleep now, not even if I wanted to. I rise gingerly to my feet, pack my small bag, and set off for Mike's within half an hour. The rest of the drive I think over the way I want to approach this. "Sorry I lied to you, Mike, but there's an army of two hundred demons lose on the world, please forgive me" isn't going to cut it. This demon problem is going to hit hard. Hunters all over are going to have their hands full for a while. Most hunters I've met over the years haven't even dealt with a demon before. And, with only one Colt, the only way to stop them is an exorcism. My only hope is that we can get to them before they cause too much damage. But I know that is only wishful thinking.

Hours later, I pull into Mike's driveway. I spot his truck parked near the garage. No putting off this conversation until later, then. I grab my duffle from the Camaro's trunk and limp my way up the front stairs. The front door creaks as it opens and I find myself in the empty living room. Mike's high school yearbook is opened on the coffee table. The sight is odd, he almost never pulls that thing out. Too many bad memories, he says. I drop the duffle bag down in front of the couch to go through later. I am just getting ready to sit down when Mike walks down the stairs.

"Lara!" he says, walking over to me quickly. "What happened? Are you okay? Oh, my God, look at you! What the hell happened?"

He pulls me toward him in a tight hug after taking a quick look at my injuries. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face into his shoulder. It takes me a few moments to get up the courage to let go. I know as soon as I do, I'm going to have to start answering all of those questions.

"It's...a long story," I say, stepping back from the hug.

"Alright, well, sit-"

"Mike-"

"Sit," he says more forcibly, "I'll get you a drink."

He tosses a pillow from the couch on to the coffee table.

"Put that leg up."

"Mike, I really don't feel like a drink…"

"So, then, sit and I'll make you some tea."

I finally give in and sit on the couch, propping my leg up on the pillow-topped coffee table. Mike goes into the kitchen, so I pick up the yearbook. Tea is well worth the wait, but it is a wait. The page the yearbook is open to shows the senior class of 1967. After scanning the page for a few seconds, I spot two familiar pictures. I smile and place the yearbook back on the table, open to the same page. Mike walks back in a couple minutes later, a mug of hot tea in one hand and a beer in the other. He hands me the tea and sits in the armchair across from the couch, facing me.

"With hair like that, you and Dad could have started a rock band," I say, nodding at the yearbook. "What do you have that thing out for anyway? Thought you hated looking at it."

"Nice try, but you're not changing the subject that easily."

"What, like you're trying to do right n-"

"Lara."

I take a small sip of the tea, welcoming the warmth it brings to me.

"Since everything was most clearly not 'fine', like you said...start from the top," Mike says, taking a sip from his beer.

Not once does Mike interrupt me, not even when I have to back up and tell him about the whole "special children" thing I most conveniently left out before. He takes everything in with a measured silence, only nodding occasionally. When I finish, he just sits there, takes a few sips of his beer, and still doesn't say anything. It only takes a few moments for the silence to break me.

"I know you're pissed…" I start.

"I'm not pissed," Mike says flatly.

"Right, because I didn't lie to you about...everything that's been happening."

"I'm not mad, Lara. I'm just-"

He takes a deep breath and runs his free hand through his hair.

"I'm just sorry you had to go through all of that," he says.

I nearly choke on my tea.

"What?"

Though I know how much Mike cares about me, he usually isn't as upfront as this. But, then again, he usually is like this when I scare him half to death.

"So, the Roadhouse... that vision you had-"

"Already over when I got there. Demons made quick work of it. Sorry, I know you knew a lot of-"

Mike shifts in his chair, taking another long drink from his beer, "And Sam Winchester?"

I look down into my mug at what's left of my tea.

"Sorry, I just can't believe...a demon army?"

"Yeah, and most of them got out. Couple hundred at least. It's not good."

"No it isn't."

Feeling that our conversation is just stalling, I pick up my mug and limp into the kitchen to rinse it out.

"The demon did that to you? The yellow-eyed one?"

"Yep, when I tried to stop him from offing Dean twelve months too early."

I stop and put the mug down in the sink, staring blankly at it.

"About that," Mike says quietly, walking up behind me. "So, just like that, you're done? No more hunting with the Winchesters, not even if they need your help?"

"They're just fine on their own."

"Lara-"

Mike puts a hand on my shoulder, and for some reason that's what sets me off.

"No, I know what you're going to say. Trust me, I said it to Sam already. 'Make the most of the time you have left with him.' Well, it sounds great and all, but they're just words."

"That wasn't what I was going to say," Mike says firmly. "I was going to say that I didn't expect you, of all people, to be so selfish about this."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks, my stomach sinks into a pit.

"Selfish? You think I'm being selfish? You think it's easy watching everyone, every single person I- I care about die -no, worse than that- get sent to hell? I tried to stop him, Mike, I tried to tell him."

"No, I know it isn't easy. But time and distance aren't going to help a damn bit and you know it. Staying away isn't going to make you forget him, it isn't going to make it any easier. Listen to yourself, Lara."

"What am I supposed to do? Go follow them around on hunts for the whole year, get even closer to Dean, only for both of us to have to face the inevitable anyway? Yeah, that's healthy."

"Of course that's not what I'm saying. Just be there. It's already going to be rough as it is out there. If they need you, just be there."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, hopefully more frequent updates to follow.