Disclaimer: I don't own anything, least of all The WB's Supernatural.
Author's Note: Okay, I lied, this isn't the last chapter...next one will be. I figured it would be way too long to put it all in one, so I went ahead and split it up. Hope you like!
The four Winchesters wait anxiously for something to happen as they stand on guard, their backs to the stone wall of the mausoleum. Sam checks his pistol for about the sixth time, spinning the chamber and straining to peer in at the bullets that clog its holes. Dean shoots him a nasty look and he quickly pops the chamber back in place and shoves the gun into the back of his waistband. Tessa leans against the wall, watching Ben from the corner of her eye as his mouth moves softly, inaudible words spilling out.
"So does he do this slipping into a trance, talking with demons thing when you guys are just sitting around the house, or does he save it for special occasions?" Dean quietly asks his sister.
Without even looking his way she responds, "Wouldn't know, we've never actually just sat around anywhere."
"He said he's only starting to figure this whole thing out," Sam says, his fingers inadvertently brushing over the butt of the gun yet again. He looks up at Dean. "He said he doesn't even know for sure if he's able to contact the Shedim. He's only ever been able to communicate with the lesser demons, and even then it's only when they want."
"Great," Dean mutters.
"He can do it," Tessa says before turning to face her brothers. "He will do it."
"How do you know?"
"Because he knows what'll happen if he doesn't. And he won't let that happen."
Dean lets out a heavy sigh and scuffs his shoe along the grass, working it away until there's a tiny patch of nothing but dirt. He looks down at his jacket lying in a heap on the ground by a headstone reading April Whitting, Beloved Daughter, May, 1901 – September, 1902. It's hot, so hot that he's thinking about taking off the button down he's wearing on top of his T-shirt. Earlier in the day it had been in the 40's, 50's maybe, and he can't imagine it being normal that the temperature has risen so high so fast. He looks back at his jacket and wonders if little April is at peace in Heaven, or somewhere else, crying out for her parents amid this stifling heat.
A strong wind begins to blow and pushes them all up against the wall, their clothes and hair flapping about viscously. But it is still hot and if anything the wind makes it harder to breathe, pressing fiery air into their bodies and down into their lungs. "Storm's coming," Dean says, barley audible over the gusts.
"No," says his father. "No, this is something else."
They all look over at Ben and see the salt that lines the circle around him gently lifting and whipping about. The air moves cyclone like around him, twisting his hair and clothes. But he remains still but for his lips, which now seem to be moving even more. "I told you he could do it," she says with a smile as they all continue to watch.
"It's them?" Sam asks, a hint of fear in his voice.
"The Shedim," she says quietly. "Made of fire and air, they follow the dead."
"But," he starts, before being shushed by his father.
"Just wait," Tessa says.
They stand quietly in place for another minute or so as the hot wind whips around them. Then, all at once, it stops, leaving only a slight warm breeze that tickles the backs of their necks. They all turn to Ben but see that he is in the same position with the same look of concentration on his face. His lips are parted, but he is not moving them as he was a moment ago. From the other side of the mausoleum they can hear the rustling of the grass as someone moves toward them.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the blond says as she moves in on the group. "You're having a party, and I wasn't invited."
"Meg," Sam says absently. Even with the few candles lit around Ben's circle, the graveyard is nearly pitch black. But he can still see the knot on the side of her head and the swollen lip that her fingertip absently touches every few seconds.
"Tessa," she says, after flashing Sam a quick smile, "I thought we had an understanding."
"What kind of understanding?" Dean interjects. "You kick my ass, I kick yours, Daddy gets mad and – " He feels a hand on his chest and sees that is Tessa's. She's trying to quiet him, and as much as he doesn't want her stepping up to protect him, he does what she wants, acknowledging that this time she might be the one who knows what's best.
She steps forward so that her face is no more than a few inches away from Meg's and she stands resolutely, her lips pressed shut as Meg's curl into a sadistic smile. "Don't tempt me," the blond says.
"You're not here to kill me?" she asks mockingly, sarcasm dripping from her mouth.
"Not only you."
"Where's your father?" John steps up to ask. He takes Tessa by the arm and pulls her back. She hesitantly complies, moving around to the back of her father, her eyes never leaving Meg's.
"He's around," she says. "You must be John. I've heard so much about you."
"Where's you father?" he repeats.
She doesn't answer, only laughs a bit as she backs up toward the sidewalk. By now even the subtle breeze has stopped and the air lays heavy all around them. Despite its thickness though a delicate clip-clop, clip-clop can be heard, footsteps on cement. John moves forward and strains to look through the night sky. He knows who it is long before the figure comes into focus.
Behind him Tessa leans over to Dean and whispers something into his ear. He shoots her an odd look but nods when he sees the seriousness of her expression.
The figure comes closer, making his way up the path, walking slowly, taking his time. He sidles up to Meg, who still has a mischievous grin on her face, and pulls her close to him. "Father," she says to the man, "look who I found." He smiles at her and carelessly pats her head. Then he takes a knife from the inside of his suit jacket and slits her throat. Her eyes widen in shock as she slowly falls to ground, gurgles being emitted from her throat in lieu of screams.
"John," he says cordially, putting the blade back into his interior pocket and reaching out to shake John's hand. "How've you been?"
"Great," he says with faux enthusiasm. His fist connects with Baz' jaw before he even realizes how much he wants to hit him.
"That hurt, John," he says as his hand gingerly caresses his face. "And after all I've done for you."
"You tried to kill my daughter," he spits angrily, stepping back all the same.
"Did I?" He looks to Tessa who has positioned herself between the others and Ben. He then rather dramatically cranes his neck to peer around her and into the protective circle. "Who's that?"
"No one," she says shortly.
"And what is No One doing back there?"
"Nothing."
He lets out a hearty laugh and stops only when John's fist makes contact with his face yet again. As before, the punch catches both men off guard. Baz spits blood on the grass and turns with anger in his eyes. "Stop that!"
"I trusted you," John says through clenched teeth.
"Don't be naïve. You haven't trusted anyone in years, least of all me." He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs at the remaining blood on his lip and chin. "Besides, I did you a favor, well, several in fact. I told you where she was."
"Which you only knew because you were following her so you could kill her."
"John, I don't want to kill her. Him," he says indicating Sam, "I want to kill." He winks at Sam and smiles a sinister smile before looking back at John. "But I have no reason to hurt Tessa, not now anyway." He moves past the others and towards her, merely brushing off Dean's hand as he grasps his shoulder to stop him. When he reaches her he takes her hand in his and brings it to his mouth, kisses her knuckles softly. She cringes.
"What?" John asks confused.
"Well, with Meg gone, I'm going to need a new child. One who will help me when I need it. One strong enough and smart enough to do what needs to be done."
"Like kill my own brother?" she asks quietly, disgust permeating her words.
"He's not your brother anymore. They're not your family, I am," he says softly, looking directly into her eyes. Then, as if he could feel the man's questioning gaze on him, he turns to John to explain. "You knew there would be consequences," he says simply.
Tessa looks at father in horror. This is the one thing she had hoped he would never find out, the thing she thought would be dealt with by simply doing away with Baz. But no one can change the past, and no one can keep people from regretting it. She meets her father's eyes and watches as realization slowly floods over him, leaving pain in its wake. "It doesn't matter," she says, holding his gaze. "It doesn't matter what kind of deal you made. I know which side I'm on."
"It wasn't a deal, Tessa. You know that," Baz says as he throws his arm over her shoulders. "It was a sacrifice."
"I never," John starts, but finds himself unable to go on.
"Oh, really, John, you know about this stuff. You know it's not all fire and fun. You don't have to cut someone's throat or burn them alive to sacrifice them."
"I didn't know."
"Well, how you could not? I mean, your wife is dead and even she knew."
John closes his eyes tightly and draws in a deep breath. Of course, he thinks. Of course she knew. That's why she was calling out to Tessa all those years ago, trying to lure her to death. It wasn't because she didn't love her; it was because she did. And she didn't want her child to suffer like Meg did, to be turned into an abused and used evil pawn. Even death would be better than that.
Tessa shrugs out from under Baz' arm and tries to move away from him, but he grabs her wrist and grips hard. John's eyes fly open and he stares menacingly at Baz before saying simply, "Let go of my daughter." Both men look at each other, neither move.
Sam reaches around behind him for his gun but stops when he feels Dean's hand come to rest on his. He gives his brother an incredulous glance but sees, when he looks over at him, that he is signaling him with his eyes to look to his right. He does and notices that Ben, while still sitting in the same position, is out of his trance and looking right at him. Sam mouths the word now. And Ben nods his head, his hair falling away from his face as the returning wind blows it back.
Sam looks back at his sister as she tries to pull away from Baz' grip. He looks at her only for a second before she turns to him and winks. He reaches back again, this time for the little book he stashed in his back pocket. He grabs it and opens it to the marked page and begins reading aloud in Latin. The wind starts to pick up again, whistling as it shoots in and out of the small spaces between the headstones.
Baz tears his eyes away from John when he feels the hot air begin to swirl around him. His mouth falls open as though he is about to speak, but nothing comes out. Sam reads louder, moving closer to him as he does so. Tessa quickly twists out his grasp and grips his arm with her other hand, forcing it behind his back. Ben jumps up and grabs his other arm, and the two work to hold him steady despite his struggling.
Sam moves directly in front of him and glances up every so often from the book. He sees the fear, the utter terror, in Baz' eyes. But he doesn't care. This may not be the thing that killed his mother, or Jessica even. But it is one of them, one who played an awfully big part in almost every horrific thing that had ever happened in his life. And he wants him to die, horribly, painfully.
This was the plan they had discussed. The Shedim couldn't get to him as long as he was encased in a human body, at least not easily. And they certainly couldn't cause him the same kind of pain and suffering as if he were in his natural form. So they had to exorcise him and then let his brothers and sisters go to town, ripping him limb from preverbal limb. Of course before just offering him up they would ask for something in return, that was Ben's job. He was supposed to offer them Baz in exchange for leaving all of the Winchesters alone, from here on out. They thought it might be a tough sell. After all they are a family that specializes in getting rid of their evil kind. But ultimately they figured that their hatred for their traitorous sibling would far outshine that which they had for some measly human supernatural hunters. And judging from the way they were all now seemingly circling Baz like sharks waiting to strike, he guesses they must have been right.
Sam continues to recite the ritual as both Dean and their father rush up to help hold onto the flailing man. Sweat pours from each of them as the temperature seems to rise even more, the wind whipping with increasing violence. Dean's hand slips briefly and he catches a foot in the face, stumbles back for a moment before lurching forward again to reclaim his grip. Sam, now with the repeating lines unconsciously rolling off his tongue in quick succession, stares into Baz' frightened eyes, tunes out his screams and hateful curses. Water falls into his eyes and he tries to blink it all out, but more flows in. It's not just sweat, it's begun to rain.
The thick droplets beat down on them and seem to sizzle on their skin. Dean looks up, the violent wind forcing the rain into his eyes, and he sees how dark and angry the sky has become. A large flash of lightening cuts a jagged arc through the clouds and hits a tree somewhere deep in the woods just beyond. The crack of split lumber is followed by a guttural scream from Baz. Loud thunder rolls over the awful sound leaving only the pitter-patter of rain in its wake.
The form beneath them goes still, his eyes closing, breathing steadying to a slower pace, like that of a man deep in sleep. And the wind swirls around them all once more before lifting higher into the sky as if being called away by the clouds. Its final whistle is so high-pitched that they all cringe and struggle to cover their ears.
And then it's gone. The wind, the intense heat, the strange feeling that was present just moments ago, is all gone. The four who were holding Baz down slowly release their grips, one by one. Sam closes his tiny book and places it back into his pocket, then leans over to try and help the others up.
"Is that it?" Ben asks, breaking the silence. They all look at each other, seeing if one of them might hold the answer. In the end the only answer they find comes in the form of a collective shrug of shoulders. I guess so, it seems to say.
Sam shoves his hands in his pockets as he turns in search of his jacket. The rain continues to fall, but now it feels icy on their skin and the temperature seems to have dropped by about twenty degrees. Tessa shivers and hugs her arms to her chest. Dean leans down and picks up his jacket, goes to throw it over her shoulders, but is beaten to it as Ben steps up and helps her slip into his. He cringes a bit as he watches Ben lean into her, throw his long arms around her shoulders and hold tight. The embrace looks like something they've made fairly commonplace. They're comfortable in each other's arms, and upon realizing this Dean tenses up even more.
They all seem a bit lost, looking around as though searching for something to do. This part of the job is done, but there's a whole other one that has yet to even begin. Tessa looks up into the sky, sees the dark clouds that have only recently rolled in, and thinks to herself that it can't be long now. The candles have all been put out, either by the rain or the demonic wind, so while she can make out the forms of her family members, she is unable to see their expressions.
"What now?" Sam asks cautiously. But no one seems to hear him. They all look past him just over his shoulder, towards the woods. Sam turns slowly and sees a figure approach. Even in the near pitch black he can make out that it is a woman.