It was just past dusk when Sam heard a faint rumbling sound. "Did you hear that?" he asked Dean, "It sounded like thunder."
Dean looked skyward and sighed. "That's because it probably is thunder, Sammy. Looks like a storm may be coming in."
Sam followed his gaze, frowning at the dark clouds obscuring the stars and moon. "A thunderstorm in late November?"
"It happens," shrugged Dean. "Means it'll snow in two weeks--the skiers will be happy."
Sam wished they'd listened to the local weather forecast instead of Iron Maiden on the way up, and fed another piece of kindling to the fire. The blaze wasn't as big as Sam would have liked, but they couldn't afford to draw attention to themselves before the job was done, and Dean was concerned that the wind might cause the fire to spread out of control. He had assured Sam that there was sufficient flame to ignite the gasoline in his homemade molotov cocktails and the kerosene soaked rags he'd wrapped around some logs to use as torches. Plus, he'd said, grinning that trademark grin, if worst came to worst he had an incendiary grenade tucked into his jacket that dad had gotten from one of his munitions connections.
The rumbling came again, closer, and the ground underneath their feet shook. It wasn't thunder. Dean and Sam both turned toward the boulder, and Dean ignited one of his torches. Sam focused harder on the rock in front of him--in the firelight it looked as though the rock was covered by a shimmering shadow several shades darker than the surrounding night. The temperature began dropping quickly, just as it had in Charleston. Sam flipped to the first incantation and began reading, hoping to slow the demon's progress.
Dean was also staring at the shadow covering the rock, trying to figure out where it was coming from, but a soft glow to his right distracted him and he glanced over at Sam, then started. His brother's form was outlined in bright blue light. Dean's eyes widened in recognition--the tea had worked and he was looking at his brother's aura. "Okay, this is kinda cool," he thought, before turning his attention back to the demon's entryway and stooping to pick up one of his molotov cocktails. He hoped to hit the demon before it had passed completely through the barrier, and so was searching for any opening that might be allowing the shadow to seep through.
But when the opening appeared, it didn't happen as Dean had thought it would--with a small, gradually widening fissure. Instead, the barrier blew outward all at once, sending chunks of granite and earth directly at the Winchesters. A good sized rock grazed Dean's temple and the force of the blast knocked him off his feet, the momentum carrying him several yards down the mountain and outside of the circle's protection. He finally managed to stop himself from sliding further downhill by grabbing at handfuls of grass and he quickly scrambled to his knees, getting his bearings.
It was then that the rain began, a sudden freezing deluge from above, and Dean heard their small fire begin hissing as the drops hit. "No fucking way!" he cried, looking up at the circle in disbelief.
Sam was lying motionless inside the circle, the journal still clutched in one hand. The blue light surrounding him was still present, though slightly less bright.
"Sam!" Dean called, hoping that his brother was stunned and not unconscious, but the lack of response confirmed his fears. "Dammit!" Dean started back up the mountain at a run, sliding on the wet grass. He had to get back to the circle and read the incantation himself, before the demon penetrated the circle's protections and got to Sam.
Five feet from the circle, Dean saw the light from the fire and from Sam's aura grow dim, as though a haze had fallen over them. And then Dean ran into what felt like a wall of ice, and realized that the demon was standing between him and the circle. Staggering backward from the impact, Dean watched as the shadows in front of him coalesced into an inky human form.
The demon was well over six feet tall, but had no distinguishable features other than two glowing slits for eyes. Those slits narrowed slightly, focusing on Dean, and the older Winchester brother felt the force of demonic hatred hit him like a physical blow, pushing him further back.
Though the demon had no mouth, Dean heard its voice in his head. "You can't protect your brother. I will destroy you and then I will use your strength to take his power for my own. Maybe I'll keep you alive long enough for you to see it happen."
Dean had lost his torch and his molotov cocktail in the fall, and when he reached inside his jacket for the incendiary grenade he came up empty. He felt rather than saw the demon's malicious smile. "Lose your toy?" it mocked him.
Without weapons Dean did the only thing he could think of--he ran forward, trying to angle away from the demon and toward the circle. But he had trouble getting traction on the wet ground and had underestimated both the demon's speed and its reach. Dean felt searing heat along his arm and left side as the demon gave him an almost casual swipe with its shadowy claws. He gasped, pulling himself away from the demon, and kept running, pressing his injured arm over what he knew were some pretty serious gashes in his side.
But no matter how he dodged or ran, the demon easily kept itself between Dean and his goal. Realizing that running was only going to exhaust him, Dean finally stopped and turned to face the demon, moving as close to it as he dared and shaking water droplets out of his eyes. The outline of the circle was a mere foot or so away, and Dean wasn't sure how quickly the rain would disrupt its power.
"Christo!" Dean shouted, and the demon flinched. That bit of distraction was all Dean needed, and he leapt, diving for the circle's protection, barely hearing the demon's roar of pain and rage through the sounds of rain and blood pounding in his ears. He landed hard and rolled, feeling the skin on his damaged right side tear further.
"Son of a bitch," Dean hissed, coming to his knees and clutching his side. He scooted over to Sam, checking him for injuries. From the size of the rapidly swelling lump on his brother's head, Dean figured that a decent-sized rock must have hit Sam pretty hard. Dean patted Sam's face, trying to rouse him.
"Sammy...Sam! Come on, bro, wake up! We're in some serious shit here, man!"
His brother's eyelids flickered open, then squinted against the water falling into them. "Dean?" Dean blew out a sigh of relief but didn't waste time explaining. The demon was attacking the circle's perimeter and Dean could tell they didn't have long.
"I need you to read, Sam, buy us some time," he half-shoved his brother into a sitting position, hunching him forward and pushing their father's journal underneath the slight protection that afforded. When Dean fumbled in the duffel bag and handed Sam a flashlight, his brother noticed the blood staining both the flashlight handle and the journal's pages.
"You're bleeding!"
"Just read, dammit!" A half-dazed Sam began the incantation, which only brought more howls of rage from the demon.
Dean scrambled back over to the duffel bag and grabbed all of the other molotov cocktails, tossing them one by one at the demon, whose attacks had been slowed by Sam's reading. If Dean could coat the demon with enough gasoline, maybe his lighter would work to ignite it...even as he thought it, Dean knew it was hopeless, but he continued his assault anyway, spraying leftover kerosene on the demon when he ran out of the molotovs.
Dean reached into the duffel for the lighter and struck it, miraculously producing a flame. Almost laughing in relief, he tossed it at the demon, only to see the flame sputter out as it reached its target.
And then the demon was through the barrier and on top of him, and all Dean could think about was that this wasn't right, some half-assed demon wasn't going to take him out before he'd found his mother's killer, and it sure as hell wasn't going to use him to kill his brother.
He could hear Sam yelling his name, but it sounded very far away, and Dean's world had narrowed to pain and cold blackness and glowing eyes and the smell of gasoline. Dean realized that he was yelling too, but he felt detached from it, as though it were happneing to someone else. He tried to focus on fighting back, staying alive long enough to save Sam. Then there was a blinding flash of greenish light from somewhere, and the demon was on fire, pulling away from Dean and screaming in pain and rage.
Then Sam was beside him, helping him sit up and pressing down on his bleeding side, dark eyes wide.
"What?" Dean managed after a moment--the look on his brother's face was starting to freak him out.
Sam shook his head, a half-smile on his features. "If I'm Carrie, you're the firestarter," he said wryly.