Chapter 4
9.30 p.m. West Bend, Wisconsin
"The coin will move when she does, as long as the candles burn," Ellie said to Frank.
She'd set up the map and candles on the trailer's small square table an hour ago. The coin had returned to St Louis. Switching to a much larger scale map of the city, it'd zigged and zagged around the streets for a few moments, before settling on a warehouse address by the river. They'd waited to make sure it wasn't moving anywhere else, and Dean and Sam had gone outside, using their latest pre-paid phones to send messages to the hunters to meet them in O'Fallon.
"How're you routing the cells?"
With a vague wave of his hand, Frank said, "Through TSAT, some of the older SATCOMs and Chinasat. As well as the usual ground stations, mostly CIA."
Ellie's mouth tucked in at the corners. "That seems reasonably secure."
He snorted, turning away from the table to the narrow kitchen counter and pouring a coffee from the pot.
"We'll need guidance; and it won't only us," she warned him. "There'll be another six, plus or minus, signals as well. You'll be burning up the airwaves."
He shrugged. "Been borrowing some of the T1 capacity while I'm here." He glanced at the window. "Pole's thirty yards thataway so it's hardwired, mostly using the D-channel to hide in."
Ellie nodded. "No one's gonna see the blip of extra usage on that line?"
Shaking his head, he told her, "No, the line reports an even flow across the entire length. No locations using more than any other."
"Nice."
"Ray's software," he said. "No one can track the signals coming from me, Ellie, but it's not gonna take a genius to triangulate positions where they go to the phone SIMs. We've been thinking about a kind of mobile telephone exchange, using rotating chips and codes for each of the phones – so the individual signals can be falsely recording their transmission data."
Ellie thought about that for a moment. "So one call would be reported in … say Arizona, the next in Quebec?"
"Yeah, exactly, although Ray's kinda keen to spread the load," Frank said, with a sharp-edged grin. "It would make tracing source or recipients impossible, no matter how sophisticated the tracking systems they've borrowed are."
Taking off his glasses and pulling a cloth from his pocket, he cleaned the lenses. "It's going to be the only way to prevent the leviathans from being able to target us, we think. Well, aside from hiding in caves and not using modern technology ourselves, I mean."
"Are you ready to put that into place?" she asked.
"Not yet. Another few days and we will be," he said, tucking the cloth back into his pocket and settling his glasses onto his nose. "Ray's tweaking the variables and I've got a few more bugs to get ironed out."
Nodding, Ellie said, "Well, we're going to be moving around a lot this week. I don't think anyone will be able to keep up – and they won't be able to anticipate us. But after that, it's going to be a big priority." She looked at him. "That going to work for you and Ray?"
"I believe so." He glanced down at the map again, his expression sombre. "This plan, to catch the demon, uh, it's not going to be a cakewalk, is it?"
"No," she said, her eyes cutting away to the trailer's door. "Not even close."
"Ray had an idea, uh, for some kind of early warning for demon presence," Frank offered, one shoulder lifting in a diffident shrug.
She looked back at him. "Keying off what?"
"I didn't ask and he didn't say." He shook his head. "I'll tell him to send the preliminary design to you?"
"That'd be good," Ellie said. "Sooner the better."
11.00 p.m. Roscoe, Illinois.
"I pulled up the plans of the warehouse," Sam said, forking another load of almond chicken onto his plate. "It's been empty for three years. Last tenant was an engine refitting business, but they gutted it when they went belly up."
"We're going to have to look at it first anyway," Ellie said. "If it's the stretch I'm thinking of, there's not going to be an easy way in that isn't pretty conspicuous, even with the river at the back door."
The motel room was redolent with the scents of Chinese take-out; almond chicken, ginger beef and chow mein warring with fried wontons and special fried rice for dominance; the table littered with empty cartons and paper napkins. To one side, Sam's laptop was open, showing the street location of the warehouse along the riverside.
Dean wiped his fingers and picked up his beer. "How're we going to get the circle set up in that place while she's in it?"
"No idea," Ellie said, her head bent over her plate. "Too many variables. We'll know more when we get there."
Over the past few hours, she'd gotten more sleep, conked out in the passenger seat of the pickup. She'd eaten every time they'd stopped. She looked better, Dean thought, watching her from under his brows.
"Will she be able to see you?" Sam asked, pushing back in his chair. "Because of Lucifer?"
"I don't know that either," she admitted, wiping her mouth and glancing at Dean. "You think I should hang back, stay out of it?"
"No," Dean said, setting the bottle down. "We could use it, if we need to."
"A – decoy?" Sam frowned. "Isn't that a little risky?"
"Not if I'm there," he said, leaning forward, elbows propped on the table. "We need to make this work, no matter happens, right?"
Sam glanced at Ellie. "Yeah."
"So, we don't know if you're gonna be visible or not," he continued, his gaze flicking to her. "But we know no one else is on their radar."
"You want to double the traps?" Ellie asked, pushing her plate away and resting her chin on her hand, her eyes narrowing. "It's a waste of holy oil."
"Not if it works," he countered. "If she sees you, thinks you're alone, she might walk into Circle A. If she doesn't, there's Circle B and a bunch of hunters somewhere else."
He straightened and picked up the bottle, swallowing the last mouthful and ignoring the sudden thumping of his pulse at the base of his throat. She wouldn't be alone. He'd be there. Wherever 'there' was. It was the only thing he could think of to counter the possibility Meg would see Ellie, would feel her somehow, know she was there. He wasn't leaving her alone on the sidelines and he was done with putting all their eggs in one basket, or locking the henhouse ... or whatever the goddamned phrase was.
"Sounds like a plan," Ellie said, getting up and collecting the empty cartons.
Dean and Sam picked up the dishes and empty bottles, carrying them to the sink.
"Has everyone responded?" Ellie asked, filling the sink with hot water and looking in the cupboard under it for detergent.
"We got messages from Garth, Dwight, Marcus and Trent – they were waiting anyway," Sam said, taking the detergent from her and handing his brother a dishcloth.
"Got answers from Laney and Moses. They'll be in Peoria by about eight," Dean added, dropping the empty bottles into the trash. "Jeremy can't make it."
"Frank'll keep everyone informed until we get there," Ellie said, stepping back with a raised brow as Sam reached past her to turn off the tap and ease the dirty dishes into the hot, soapy water. "He and Ray might have a better communication setup for us."
Dean grunted noncommittally as he took a clean, wet dish from his brother and started drying. "I thought the levis were using the NSA's listening posts? Or was it the CIA's?"
She nodded. "They've come up with a way around that."
Sam glanced over his shoulder at her. "That I'd like to see."
"Hopefully, if we get through this and we're all still here, you will in a week."
"M'I supposed to wipe off what you don't wash off, Sam?" Dean stared at the dirty plate irritably.
"Give it back." Sam held out his hand for the offending plate. "It's not on the immediate agenda, but you have any ideas on getting Michael out?"
"What?" Ellie turned to look at him.
Dean's mouth compressed to a thin line. He'd been hoping he wouldn't have to tell Ellie about that until after they'd bagged the devil. "Cas told us only Michael can, uh, control the angel army."
"He wants you to get Michael out of the Cage?"
"Well, he wasn't that specific," Dean said, shooting a fast glare at his brother. "He just said Michael had to be – uh –raised."
Ellie looked away. "Getting into the Cage is no picnic."
Sam made an apologetic face at him, ducking his head as Ellie turned back. With an internal eye-roll, Dean wondered how he was gonna sidetrack Ellie's interest in the angel's order.
"Yeah. No."
Understatement of the year.
"You don't have the rings any more."
He hadn't even thought of that, he realised, snatching a wet plate from Sam's hand and tightening his hold when it started to slip. The rings from War, Famine and Pestilence were still in the small leather pouch in his duffel. Death's ring, he'd returned.
"Uh, well, we gotta get Lucifer back in his box first," he said.
4.00 p.m. July 3, 2012. Peoria, Illinois
"Why here?" Dean looked around the crowded campground when he stopped the pickup.
"Camouflage," Ellie said. "And clutter."
The lightly wooded slope framed a large clearing down to the river, but the open ground wasn't open; it was tightly packed with RVs, camper vans, tents – and people. Vacationers, dressed in shirts and shorts or summer dresses, the most colourful they could get hold of, Dean thought, reaching for his sunglasses, his nose wrinkling unconsciously at the sight. Most of the designated camp sites had their own fire pits and simply built picnic tables. The picnic ground, on the other side of the grounds, had a dozen tables and a several stone-ringed fire places.
Sam's Jeep pulled in behind them. Dean could see his brother's pan of the grounds through the rearview mirror. When he opened the door, the noise hit him – music of every type, loud chatter, yelling of the kids who raced and whooped through the tents and trailers, and somewhere in the middle, the high-pitched squall of a baby who didn't think much of the camping idea. He didn't blame it. He couldn't think of anything less tempting than spending a vacation with a hundred strangers crammed together. The air above the general campground was pale blue with smoke from the barbecuing dinners.
Looking back into the truck at Ellie, he lifted a brow. "Guess no one's gonna overhear us."
"There's that," she agreed, opening her door and climbing out.
There were a couple of free tables, close to where they'd parked and she walked to the pickup's tray, pulling out a cool box of food and setting it on one of them.
A battered red truck arrived half an hour later, Twist squeezing into the gap between them and a small group of trees. He and Dwight got out, wandering over to the table and helping themselves to the mounds of sandwiches Ellie had set out.
"You gotta fix on that demon?" Dwight asked, tucking his mouthful of pastrami, sweet mustard and onion on rye into one cheek.
Dean nodded. "Down on the river, a warehouse."
"We gotta plan for taking her down this time?"
"Not until we get a good close look at the site," Ellie said, coming up behind him. "We'll take a look at tomorrow."
"So what's the pow-wow about?" the older hunter asked.
"Timing, mostly."
A blatting noise broke through the conversation, and they turned together, along with more than half of the vacationers in the camp ground, to see Garth's Ranchero lurch from the gravel entrance across the grass toward them, smoke curling up from beneath the hood.
"The hell he do to that engine?" Dean muttered to himself, walking toward the hunter and waving his arms. "Stop! Hey! Stop!"
The scrawny hunter hit the brakes, sticking his head out the window. "Hey. Uh, not sure what happened – there was this, um, grinding noise –?"
"Pop the hood," Dean ordered, rolling up his sleeves.
By dusk, the campground was settling down and Ellie leaned back against the picnic table, stretching her legs out.
Dean was still buried in the engine of Garth's car, occasionally barking out suggestions or swearing indistinctly, Garth scurrying around the vehicle to grab tools from her pickup, hold the light, pass things, and start and stop the engine. Dwight and Twist sat at the other end of the table, playing cards, a pile of matchsticks between them. Trent had driven in an hour ago, and was sitting at the next table, making significant inroads into the remaining sandwiches and talking to Sam.
She looked around as headlights lit up the clearing and dimmed, Marcus' blue Nova bumping over the rough ground. He parked on the other side of Sam's Jeep, and she got to her feet as he got out, brows rising in surprise as a pair of bare, suntanned legs emerged from the passenger side.
"Carol?"
Carol Milson was a few inches shorter than her uncle's height of five-eleven, her cut-off denim shorts and tee shirt fitting tightly on an athletic build. A short crop of blonde hair, the tips scarlet, gave her a startling, somewhat elfin look.
The young woman turned and grinned at her. "Hey, Ellie, long time."
"He rope you in for this?" Ellie hugged the girl, glancing at Marcus. "I thought you were in college?"
"Finished with college. And I wanted to come. I only went to college for Dad," Carol said. "Hunting's more fun."
Ellie made a face. "That's a matter of experience, but never mind."
"That's what I told her too." Marcus' expression matched Ellie's. "She won't listen. Got her father's stubborn streak."
He nodded to Dwight and Twist. "Uh, Carol, you know these two renegades. That's Casper Trent over there, sittin' with Sam Winchester," he said, Trent and Sam getting to their feet and crossing to them.
"Wow, really? The Sam Winchester?" Carol smiled up at him, holding out her hand. Behind Sam, Trent snorted and Marcus rolled his eyes.
"Uh, yeah," Sam said uncomfortably, shaking her hand and looking over her head to his brother.
"And that's Garth Fitzgerald and Dean Winchester," Marcus continued, waving a hand toward the two by the Ford.
"Oh, gee, I've heard a lot about you guys." She looked from Sam over to Dean as he and Garth walked to the tables. "It's so cool to meet you finally."
Dean held up oil-covered hands and nodded to her. "Nice to meet someone who thinks it's cool to meet us."
He turned back to Garth. "This engine's had it, Garth."
"Aww, no, come on," Garth groaned. "Don't say that. She's my baby."
"Well, you better pay your last respects, 'cause you killed her," came the sour answer.
"We the last?" Marcus asked Ellie, glancing around the crowded grounds.
"No, still waiting for Laney and Moses," Ellie told him. "There's more food in the truck, if you're hungry."
"Won't say no to food, hon," he said, following her to the pickup. "Sorry about Carol. Her mom said she's at a loose end and she was worried she might do something stupid."
"She hasn't had much experience, has she?" Ellie asked, opening the cool box and lifting out another foil-wrapped plate.
"Nothing more'n salt'n'burns," Marcus said. "George, he – he thought she'd follow him, didn't realise he wasn't gonna be around long enough to train her properly."
Nodding, she turned back to the table. "We're not sure yet just how much of a liability I'm likely to be, so she can keep me company, worst case."
"What d'you mean?" Marcus lifted the foil from the plate and took a sandwich.
"There's a good chance I'm visible," Ellie told him with a shrug. "Not to most things, but definitely to the archdemons and maybe to Meg."
He looked at her, his expression thoughtful. "Katie had nothing for you?"
"She gave me this," Ellie said, lifting the pendant from under her shirt. "Its effectiveness is limited."
"What about that angel friend of Dean's?"
"He can't do anything," Ellie said. "Not sure how to handle this yet, but it might work in our favour with Meg."
"I wouldn't be unhappy, both of you girls staying out of the action," he said, glancing around. "We got enough."
Ellie nodded. "Well, we'll see how we go."
She moved aside as Carol came up to the table, taking a sandwich and returning to the other table to sit with Sam and Trent. The girl might be a hindrance, but no more than she would if Meg or Lucifer could sense her presence – or the archdemons could feel her and came looking, she thought with an internal grimace. She would lead them right to the devil.
"Hey," Dean said from behind her. Turning, she saw him standing a couple of feet away, wiping his hands on a rag. "Everyone here?"
"Laney and Moses still to come," she said, sitting on the edge of the table. "Garth's car not worth saving?"
"Sure," he said, tucking the rag into his back pocket and sitting next to her. "If he wants to get the engine completely rebuilt, along with most of the moving parts on the rest. It was built in '78, an' I don't think he's replaced anything. Everything I looked at is officially an antique."
His gaze shifted to the next table. "The blonde's Marcus' – niece? How old is she?"
"Carol." She nodded. "She's twenty-two."
"The hell he drag her along for?"
"He didn't have a choice," she said. "Her mother asked him."
"Always a choice," he retorted, turning back to her. "What're we gonna do with her?"
"Well, chances are pretty good I'll have to hang back, probably a long way," she said, waving a hand vaguely. "She can stick around here, handle comms."
"Wait a minute, I don't –"
He stopped as another set of headlights washed over them, a big, black pickup growling as it inched past the picnic tables and parked next to the Nova.
"Alright," Ellie said, pushing off the table at the sounds of the truck's doors opening and closing. "We're all here."
Dean got to his feet. Ellie noticed he stood behind her as Laney Pike rounded the end of the Nova, striding over to them.
Five foot three inches and with an overflowing hourglass figure, Laney's button-through sleeveless shirt strained over her chest and the skin-tight denim jeans gave a good impression of being painted on. Shoulder-length blonde hair tumbled in waves and curls around her face, framing brown eyes, a pert nose and a wide smile.
Her partner, Moses Langton, walked unhurriedly in her wake, six foot four and barn-wide across the shoulders and chest. He grinned at them over Laney's head, coming to a stop behind her as she hugged Ellie, his teeth white against ebony skin.
"Damn, it's been a long time, hon! Where've you been keeping yourself?" Laney said against Ellie's ear. She stepped back suddenly, her brows rising and mouth dropping open. "Oh, my god, Ellie! You're pregnant!?"
Ellie stared at her. "How'd you know that?"
"Sweetie, you know I got a sixth sense for that kind of thing," Laney said, her gaze sliding to Dean, lips quirking into a knowing smile. "You finally figured it out, eh?"
Ellie heard him clear his throat and mumble, "Uh, yeah, guess so."
"Come on," Laney said, grabbing Ellie's wrist and tugging her back toward the black pickup. "Gimme all the juicy details before we have to get on with business, okay?"
Glancing back at Dean over her shoulder, Ellie made a face.
Moses laughed, one huge hand thumping down on Dean's shoulder. "Don't fight it, Ellie; our Laney, she don't take no for an answer."
Dean looked around the crowded table. Eight men and three women were squeezed in together, their faces lit by the bright glow of the pressure lantern. He had their attention, he thought, wondering where the hell to start.
"Most of you remember what happened the last time the devil got topside," he said, glancing at his brother. "Bad news is, he's out again."
There was a disbelieving murmur around the table and he shook his head. "He doesn't have a vessel and he's, uh, contained, for the moment in the meatsuit of a demon."
"How t'hell that happen?" Laney asked.
"He rode out of the Cage in an empty vessel," Ellie told her, her voice sharp. "He abandoned the vessel for an angel's body and a Watcher transferred him from the angel to the demon to be able to trap him in a circle of holy oil."
"A Watcher? Holy oil?" Laney's brows rose. "Thought they were bedtime stories?"
"No."
Dean looked from Laney to Ellie, and nodded to Sam. His brother took out the map of the industrial area in St Louis and pushed it across the table to him.
"We tracked her to here," Dean said. "She's holed up in a warehouse on the river."
The hunters leaned forward, looking at the map. It was a large-scale street map, satellite-view, showing the riverside buildings in clear focus. The area was only patchily occupied, parked cars and river traffic showing the active businesses.
"The warehouse is on the river, access road right in front. It's empty, but the fuel depot and the metal yard to either side are both occupied," he said. Sam pulled out another printout, this one of the warehouse floor plan.
"Going on the plans, there'll be two main areas we have to cover, plus exits."
"Anyone with her?" Laney asked, her gaze flicking across the table to Ellie.
"Not that we know of," Ellie said.
"This is a one-shot deal," Dean continued. "She has to be in the circle and the holy oil has to be lit to hold her. It's not gonna be easy. She's been around a long time and the devil's riding with her."
"We can't send her back to Hell, let 'em fight it out?" Trent asked, scratching his jaw as he stared at the floor plan.
"No." Ellie looked around the table. "If the archdemons get hold of Lucifer, they'll have the power between them to challenge Heaven, and right now, Heaven's not in a position to defeat them."
"You're talking about a war?" Marcus asked, his brows drawing together. "Here?"
"That's, uh, a possibility," Sam said.
Looking at their faces, Dean realised none of them had really had the firsthand experience of dealing with angels and demons messing about with their lives. Carol's mouth was open as her gaze flicked around the table; Garth'd turned paler than usual; Twist was staring at his hands, fiddling with the deck of cards.
"Might not come to that, we do our job right," Dean continued. "We haven't eyeballed the place yet, so we got nothing solid."
He didn't want to be doing this. Ellie was better at it, the whole planning and explaining side of things. He just wanted to kill the sonofabitch and have it over.
"Moses, you and me'll check out the building tomorrow."
Laney's partner nodded, his expression thoughtful.
"Once we know what it looks like, we'll meet at the Overlook in O'Fallon; go through who does what," Dean finished.
The back of his neck was prickling like a bitch, every time he considered leaving Ellie somewhere on the sidelines. Visible – and alone – was not sitting well with him, no matter what the risks were. It wasn't just that he needed to be able to see her. She was good at this stuff – traps and outthinking the enemy and being able to think around problems as they arose – and he didn't want to regret not having her there if Meg proved more of a handful than they were figuring on.
Dwight scratched his head. "Ah, just goin' back to the war part, Dean. The Fallen, they been runnin' Hell for a long time now, what makes you think they're aiming to start a war?"
Dean glanced at the woman beside him, suddenly getting why she'd sometimes kept a lot of the information she'd had to herself. Right now, there was just too much to be able to sum up easily or deliver quickly.
"Until now, Lucifer had the control over Hell," Ellie said, taking his cue without looking at him. "And over the archdemons. He's weakened. It's possible he's not even precisely angel or demon right now. And they know it. The Watcher we spoke to thinks they're searching for him to put a leash on him, control him somehow so they can do what they've been waiting to do since he was first imprisoned."
"That would be?" Moses asked.
"Open the gates. Take over," Dean cut in, waving a hand around. "Get rid of us."
Marcus' expression was sceptical. "Pain's demon meat and drink. Hard to take over the earth with no humans to possess and torment?"
Ellie shook her head. "The Fallen – Lucifer – they're angels. They're not worried if demons are left in Hell or if they're all wiped out along with humankind. They just want to have the place to themselves."
"That all?" Twist grimaced, slamming the cards on the table. "Just total annihilation?"
"That's about the ballpark, yeah," Dean said. "Look, no one has to be here, alright? The job sucks and no one's gonna think any worse of anyone if they figure it's not their problem."
"I don't know about anyone else," Laney said coldly. "But I got two little girls I want to have a world to grow up in, and this seems to me to be very much my problem. I'm in."
Dwight nodded in agreement, so did Moses. On the other end of the table, Twist heaved a sigh and shrugged. Marcus gave a sharp nod as he looked at his niece.
"Yeah, this is what we do," Trent murmured.
Garth looked at the faces around him. "Uh, oh, I'm in, but I have a question?"
Dean glanced at his watch and cocked a brow at him.
"I kind of get how no one could see Lucifer, when he was in an angel," Garth said. "But wouldn't he be visible in a demon? What if the – uh – archdemons already know where he is?"
"Meg's warded, and we think there's a possibility she's nephilim," Sam answered. "We told her the holy fire would keep her hidden, but she wasn't worried about that. She had to have some other solution in mind."
He glanced at Ellie, who shrugged.
"We're watching for demon sign twenty-four-seven," he added. "We'll have some notice if anyone except us is getting close to her."
"Okey-dokey." Garth nodded agreeably. "Um, is there any chance I can get a ride with someone?"
"Where're the girls?" Ellie asked, taking the dishes from Laney and stacking them in the back of the pickup.
"Left them with Moses' mom," Laney said. "They're eating peach cream pie and lazin' around the pool in LA."
"Sounds like the life," Dean said as he came up with the gear bag and set into the back.
"Oh, they think so," Laney said with a laugh. "You got any of those custom-made rounds left for me?"
"Yeah." He unzipped the bag, and felt around inside for the square boxes.
"I'm going to grab a set of those blueprints from Sam before he heads for the motel," Ellie said, walking around the rear of the truck.
Dean nodded, fingers finally locating the extra ammunition.
"Here," he said, handing two boxes to Laney. "You carry a nine millimetre, don't you?"
She nodded, taking them from him. "Ellie was saying she thinks she's gonna be visible to those archdemons, somehow."
Dean zipped up the bag. "Yeah, she might be."
"If that demon figured out some kind of warding against them, maybe she can go in," Laney said. "This is her kind of thing, you know."
"I know." He gave her an irritated look. "You wanna convince her of that, be my guest. I don't want her sitting four miles away on her own."
"I tried that already." She shrugged. "She's worried about endangering everyone. Said she was attractin' demons while you were in North Dakota? Had a run-in with one in Egypt too."
So there had been something in Egypt. He stared at the ground. "Looked that way."
"You know, Dean, even back in '07, in Michigan, there was something between you and Ellie," Laney said, leaning against the side of the truck. "I got the feeling I was treadin' on her toes."
The bar returned to his mind's eye. He remembered the feeling of relief at the job being over, the pleasant buzz of the beer and the feel of Laney's hand down his thigh. There'd been something with Ellie, but he hadn't known what it was, hadn't gotten any signs from her. He'd followed her to the parking lot when she'd left, caught up to her at her truck. She'd told him she wanted to get on the road. He'd watched her go.
He shook his head. "You weren't."
"Yeah, well, I knew her better then than you did," Laney added, her expression unconvinced.
"You goin' somewhere with this?" he asked. What good was of thinking about the might've-beens? Now?
"Most of the time it's hard to tell what Ellie's thinking. Or feeling," Laney said.
"You think?"
"Doesn't mean she's always right."
He turned to look at her.
"She's sneaky as a snake in the grass, and she thinks around corners," Laney said. "I'll bet she can outthink that demon."
"No argument," he said, his mouth tucking in at Laney's description. He didn't think Ellie would take offence at it.
"All you gotta do is convince her."
He let out a frustrated exhale. "Yeah. That's all."
10.03 p.m. Empress Motel, Peoria, Illinois
"They're still a few around Memphis and Pittsburgh," Ray's voice sounded thin and distant over the speaker. "But the big masses have all gone again."
"Any fluctuations that seem stronger than the rest?" Ellie asked, her lip caught between her teeth.
"No. Nothing but the usual thunderstorms and EMF spikes and they're within the expected range."
"Did you have any luck getting into the current TOMS satellite uplinks?"
"Some," Ray said, the reservation in his voice audible. "It's not comprehensive. The software isn't good."
"Enough to verify the EMF and atmospheric anomalies?"
"Yeah, in most cases." There was a pause and static filled the line. "There's no sign of anything more powerful than a lower-class demon anywhere on the continent."
"What about the last twenty-four hours of the warehouse?"
"Target is shown in each of the still captures," Ray said. "Not stationary. Moving from one part of the structure to another. I'm only using the available low-orbit satellites and they're not tasked for the job, but you definitely have a heat source in that warehouse and it's been consistent for the last two days."
"So she didn't find the coin and just leave it there?" Sam asked, leaning closer to the phone.
"Doesn't look like it," Ray replied. "The coin wouldn't generate a thermal signature and the subject has moved around, within the structure."
"Why's she hanging around there?" Dean asked, his annoyance tangible. "What's she waiting for?"
"Ray, can you keep eyes on the place? If anything changes, we'll need to know." Ellie ignored the interjection.
"Only once every twelve hours, Ellie, you know that." For a moment the line cleared to crystal clarity and they heard the rapid clicks of typing at the other end. "There're no geostationary satellites in range and assigning one would draw a lot of attention."
Sam glanced across the table at Ellie. Things happened a lot faster than every twelve hours.
"We'll have to make do with that," Ellie said, frustration an edge along her voice. "Thanks."
"Not a problem," Ray said. "Ellie? Either Frank or I'll call you from here on, okay? We can weird the tracking from this end but I haven't finished the virtual exchange for yours yet."
"Got that," Ellie said. "Just yell if anything changes."
"Will do." The line clicked out and Ellie reached out to end the call.
"So – what?" Dean looked at her. "They've given up?"
Her gaze was fixed to the phone, the familiar small crease between her brows. "Or, they know exactly where she is and they don't need to search any more."
"Wouldn't they've just taken her then?" Sam asked. "She hasn't moved."
Dean got to his feet, walking to the kitchen and pulling two beers from the fridge. His face was screwed up, the look in his eyes distant. "Sam, what'd Meg say about causes? When she decided to help with Crowley?"
Sam blinked at the question. He remembered the conversation, the demon trying to convince them their goals were the same, but he couldn't recall the details. "Uh, something about a reason to get up in the morning?"
Taking the beer from his brother, he shrugged as Dean's eyes rolled. "I can't remember much more than that."
"She said something about Lucifer," Dean said, dropping into his chair and twisting the top off the bottle. "How – uh – he'd been her cause –?"
Abruptly, Sam remembered. You find a cause, and you serve it. Give yourself over, and it orders your life. Lucifer and Yellow Eyes – their mission was it for me.
"Yeah, Lucifer and Yellow Eyes." His brow furrowed. "She said something about things changing over time and how it was Crowley who was the problem?"
"Right," Dean said. "Only now, Crowley's gone and the devil's back in the game."
Ellie turned to look at him. "She isn't dumb enough to think the archdemons are going to forgive and forget, is she?"
Dean shrugged. "Maybe she's just hiding out, trying to figure out something that'll work."
Sam looked at his watch. "You'll know tomorrow, one way or the other," he said. "We should be working out who's doing what."
With an impatient exhale, Dean nodded, turning back to the table. He leaned over the warehouse's blueprint. "Two floors. Four ways in and out."
"Four teams," Ellie said, gesturing to the plan. "Twist, Dwight and Laney take the ground floor east, blocking the door to the rear lot and river. Moses, Marcus and Garth can take the ground floor west. The stairs are in the middle and we can put a circle right at their base, drive her into it if we need to."
Looking at the drawing of the building, with its wide-open lower floor, Sam thought about the people she'd chosen and couldn't argue. Twist and Dwight were seasoned and nerve-less, their strength more than compensated for Laney's smaller, but faster frame. On the other side of the circle, Moses and Marcus would be able to make up for any shortcomings Garth presented.
He glanced up at his brother, watching Dean consider the possibilities and probabilities. He wasn't surprised when Dean nodded.
"That's the exit she'd bolt for, if we give her the chance." Ellie tapped a finger on the postern door, set into the middle of the southern wall. "Sam, you and Trent could keep Carol with you, handle comms and sit on that?"
"You want me to baby-sit?" Sam asked, his gaze shooting to Dean. "What's wrong with Trent?"
She lifted a brow. "I want to make sure someone who knows exactly what the stakes are is handling the comms and the exit Meg's mostly likely to go for," she said mildly. "I also want to make sure Marcus' niece is as protected as we can make her. Trent can baby-sit, if you'd prefer to take point there."
Staring down at the plan, Sam searched for a good argument against. Dean spread his hands out apologetically.
"Sorry, man, but she's right," he said. "You're a better shot than the others and you got that whole chivalry thing going on."
"You're a better shot than I am," Sam retorted. "Why don't you handle comms and the girl?"
"Haven't got your patience or that techno-know-how," Dean answered flippantly. He looked down at Ellie. "Uh, that mean it's you and me taking the top floor?"
"Yeah." She glanced up at him with a wry grimace. "You're right. The archdemons aren't looking any more. Whether she's made a deal or they've seen through her warding, it doesn't matter. We're on the clock now and we have to get this wrapped up fast."
"I'm okay with that," Dean said.
"Just the two of you? What if Meg gets past?" Sam asked. "Lucifer might still see you, even if the archdemons don't."
"Yeah. Look at this," Ellie said, pushing the floorplan to one side as she drew out the aerial shot from beneath it.
Both men leaned over the table, Sam reaching for the large magnifying glass. He moved it over the structure Ellie was pointing at, and the details leapt out.
"A gantry of some kind?" he asked, lifting the glass off the paper.
"Crane," Ellie told him. "For loading and unloading to the river. We can get in without going in through the ground floor, if it's still there. That'll be the support structure. There."
Dean frowned down at the image, his fingertip tracing a section of the roof. "Ray said she's been moving around in there."
"If we can get in through the top floor, we could block her exit and either lead or drive her down?" she said, her gaze lifting and moving from Dean to Sam. "If Lucifer does give Meg a heads-up because he can sense me, we can still work the decoy plan? I run, you follow?"
Sam huffed a sharp exhale. The upper floor was half the size of the lower. It would only need two people to cover the width, so long as they were good. He moved the glass over the floorplan. There was an entry door where the loading arm was positioned. It was smaller than a yard in either direction. With the arm in place, he had a feeling he wouldn't fit through it. Shooting a look at his brother, he wasn't sure Dean would either, but they'd know that for sure when they a chance to look at it.
Didn't matter, he told himself. He'd still be baby-sitting.
11.00 p.m.
Dean stretched out on the bed, watching Ellie move around the room, checking their gear. Naked, her hair loose; a wildfire down her back as it caught the light from the single lamp, the sight was creating the usual havoc with his senses. He tried to ignore the insistent clamour. There were a couple of things he wanted to ask.
She was starting to show a little, her stomach curving outward now, low down, instead of the flat muscles he was used to seeing. The changes were gradual, sneaking up on them both. He'd heard her frustrated muttering that morning when her jeans were too tight for comfort. She'd pulled them off and dragged out a pair of cotton pants with an elasticised waist instead.
With a final glance around the room, she turned off the light, sliding into the bed next to him. He moved his arm as she wriggled close, settling her head against the hollow of his shoulder.
"Hey," he said softly.
She looked up at him, her half-smile disappearing as she caught his expression. "Hey."
Leaning back, she shifted higher, supporting herself on her elbow to look into his face, her thigh sliding over his for balance.
"What?"
"You put Sam outta harm's way to make sure I don't get distracted?" he asked.
She raised a brow. "You think he's out of harm's way?"
Shaking her head and not waiting for answer, she continued, "If Meg breaks, she'll take the path she thinks has the least resistance and that won't be to either of the main roller doors. Sam knows Meg. He won't underestimate her and he won't hesitate. Carol's with him because he'll do his best to protect her."
It sounded like a reason, he thought, glancing away.
"You don't believe me?" Ellie asked.
"There's more crap you don't tell me," he said. "than there's stuff you do,"
"A 'for instance'?"
Twisting toward her, his hand slid down from her breastbone, down into the valley between her breasts, searching for the small vertical scar that lay there.
When he'd seen it – felt it – the first time, he'd wondered about it. It lay right over her heart. He'd seen a lot of new scars, when they'd made love in Bobby's spare bedroom. Had wanted to know about them. But at the time, he'd wanted to catch up on all the time they'd missed more.
He found it, stroking down with his fingertip, looking into her eyes.
"The Watcher told me about this," he said, his voice only just above a whisper. "Told me you did it to talk to God."
Ellie looked away, her mouth curling down. Goddamned interfering Watcher.
She drew in a deep breath. There were several good reasons she hadn't told him about that. It'd been a reckless thing to do, memorable in a period of reckless behaviour and something she looked back on with a mix of disbelief and vaguely guilty shame. She didn't remember anything about the time she'd been clinically dead, not from the moment the pain had infused every cell to the moment she'd opened her eyes – apparently a day later – to find Penemue leaning over her, his expression extremely pissed.
"Then you know all about it," she said lightly, glancing away.
"No." Dean lifted his hand, curling his fingers around her jaw. They tightened as he drew her back to look at him. "No, I don't. But I want to."
In the uncertain and diffused light, filtering in through the thin curtains from the motel's parking lot, most of his face was in shadow. She sighed as he released her.
"I didn't get the rest of the prophecy from Patrick until it was too late. Sam'd let the devil out and I'd left and I didn't know what the two of you were doing. It gave the detail about Lilith and it - it said the Righteous Man would end it – and die."
"Yeah … and?" he asked. She could see his brows, pulling together with the question. Did he really think she would've left it at that, she wondered?
"And I couldn't think of any other way to change it," she said, her tone defensive. "I had good reason to think he'd listen. He'd intervened before for me – and for you."
He looked down at the little scar. "And if – uh – he decided not to, this time?"
"Then it wouldn't have mattered, would it?"
"Why would you think that?" His hand was on her hip, fingers biting in.
Dropping her gaze, Ellie didn't know what he wanted from her; what she was supposed to say. That it'd been a dumb idea? That if he'd died, saving the world in an old boneyard, she hadn't been able to see a point to carrying on? The unsettling thoughts weren't new, but she'd never had to expose them before. She shifted against him unconsciously and his arm tightened around her back, blocking her attempt to move away.
"Because it was true," she said finally, giving in with a shrug. It hadn't been a suicide attempt, although that wouldn't've mattered if it'd failed.
"I wasn't trying to – it wasn't an attempt to –" She shook her head, drawing in a deep breath. Penemue'd believed her to be in despair, outraged she'd throw away her life for the man beside her. She hadn't been able to explain her conviction to him, either.
"I just didn't see a downside."
His face screwed up. "Now, you're scaring me."
Shaking her head, Ellie said, "At the time, it was –"
The only thing I could do, she thought. She couldn't not do anything and she'd had no way of finding him in time, no way to warn him about what'd been foreseen.
"I couldn't find you, couldn't even get a message to you, Dean –" she said, lifting her chin and looking at him. "And it worked."
"What happened?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "I woke up and Penemue was cursing a blue streak at me, and I didn't remember anything. Didn't even know if it'd worked."
"He brought you back."
"Yeah, but that might've been the extent of it," she said. "It wasn't until later, a lot later, I found out he brought Cas back – to save you, and Bobby."
His indrawn breath was harsh. "Y'know, I thought you were too smart to make deals."
"I don't think I made a deal," she said.
"But you don't know," he pressed her.
"No."
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. "When we were talking about – uh, you know – that time?"
It's something that happened – something – uh – I didn't know about. It – look – I might not need to – uh – know about – everything, but not knowing the big things–?
It was a big thing, she supposed, but she hadn't even thought about it when he'd insisted on answers about what she'd done in Hell.
"Because it worked," she said, frowning. "Because I didn't know what you would think about it. Because it never came up."
The truth, but not the whole truth.
"Because, afterwards, when I thought about it, I – it was hard to know up from down. There – there was a long time when I thought – I – um – thought what I felt wasn't the way you felt."
He turned his head, a long exhale feathering over her shoulder. "Yeah. Been there, done that."
Ellie wriggled upright, drawing her legs up. "Look, I know I don't share much –"
He snorted and she flicked her hand at his shoulder.
"– but it's not deliberate. I'm not trying to hide things. Mostly, I don't think of it – I mean, sometimes I'm trying not to think about things – or it just doesn't seem like it matters that much –"
"C'mon," Dean said, pushing back at the pillows behind him to sit up till they were eye-level again. "Okay, I get that, I really do, but this is different. You did it because of me. For me. I – you didn't think I needed to know about that?"
"So you could add another batch of guilt to your load?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.
"That's – no, I'm not –"
"Sure you are," she said, smiling slightly as she cut him off. "I did it for you. I couldn't leave it to play out the way it was supposed to. And I could've died trying to change things."
She watched him tuck his chin to his chest. "I did it because I love you. That's all."
He sucked in a deep breath. "I know."
"I told you, Dean," she said, her eyes searching his as he lifted his head. "You want to know anything? Ask me. I'll tell you. Just don't – don't expect to change the habits of a lifetime."
"I don't like to – uh – pry."
The discomfort in his face surprised a smile from her. "That doesn't leave us much room, does it?"
He seemed to relax, reaching out and pulling her close. "How 'bout if, uh, I try to ask … and you try to, uh, tell me stuff?"
It would work about as well as any compromise, she thought. She hadn't lied. A lot of the time what she'd done, the things that'd happened in her life, were analysed and filed away, closed and locked up and she didn't revisit them. He did the same thing, in many cases. Not necessarily the analysis part.
"Sure, we can try that."
The digital radio clock on the nightstand showed 11:34 and she slid her hand down over his chest, hearing his indrawn breath.
"Uh, Ellie …" He caught her hand and held it. "One more thing."
She waited, watching as his gaze cut away, his lips pursing in that familiar mix of frustration and uncertainty, too clearly showing his ambivalence about whatever it was he thought he needed to know.
"Dean – whatever it is, just ask," she said. "Okay?"
"Yeah." He looked back at her, the lack of enthusiasm apparent on his face. "Uh, yeah. Were you and, uh, Penemue …?"
"Were we together?" she asked, trying to hide her surprise at the question.
He nodded, his fingers tightening around hers, that reaction as telling as the question had been. In the six years they'd known each other, she'd only seen a couple of brief flashes of what might've been jealousy, there and gone and forgotten about.
"He's a little on the old side for me, Dean," she said dryly. His tension at the airport came back to her. She'd thought that'd been from the delays, from the side trip to the monastery. Obviously, there'd been something else.
"No. We weren't," she added, when he didn't smile or respond. "We worked together for a while. I told you about that?"
He nodded.
"He –" she hesitated, remembering their disagreements over the man beside her. "– we had a bit of a falling out. He couldn't understand why I would choose you over the fate of the world."
He didn't understand that himself, Dean thought, blithely ignoring the certainty he'd do the same thing for her – and had already done it for his brother.
It was another reference to something that had happened in her life he didn't really understand. He had the feeling he could ask questions all night and still not get the whole picture.
"He, uh, seemed angry, when he told me what you did," he said. Another thing he'd thought he wanted to know that was gonna haunt his sleep. He should've learned by now.
"He probably was." She closed her eyes, leaning her temple against his shoulder. "He didn't believe it would work. He didn't think it was worth the price and he thought I was giving up."
I was surprised that God even listened. He hasn't been listening, really, for a long time.
He heard the Watcher's voice again in his mind, and picked up the self-mockery in the man's tone this time. An angel, not believing in his Father. No wonder he'd sounded pissed.
"Is that why you've been distracted, Dean?" Ellie asked. "Because you thought there was something between him and me?"
"I don't know." He tried to shrug it off, his gaze involuntarily cutting away at the difficulty of admitting to it. She's supposed to tell you all her private secrets and you can't even admit to feeling jealous? "Yeah. I guess."
"You've never worried about that before," she said softly, and he made himself look back at her.
"Well, that's not –" he hesitated, feeling the edge of an abyss crumbing under his feet. "That's not exactly true."
He'd surprised her, he could tell. She didn't respond, but her eyes'd widened.
"Not that you've, uh, given me much to worry about," he said, shifting restively, feeling her hand close around his.
"But, uh, yeah, there've been a couple of times I wondered … and I don't know why I thought – at the airport, y'know – I saw you, coming out of the exit gate, and it was like – there you were, safe and – and, uh, in one piece – and you looked tired, but you were – uh, beautiful – y'know? Then he came out after you – and – he, uh, looked like some kind of damned rock star –"
There was a short, muffled snort of laughter against his shoulder, and he frowned at her. "What's so funny about that?"
"Nothing." She shook her head. "I thought he looked like a rock star too."
"Yeah, well …" He pulled in a deep breath, the sense of the abyss still lurking at the back of his mind. He couldn't describe the feeling. Couldn't find the words to explain it.
"I – I was – so fucking glad to see you, and you – uh, you smiled at him and I –"
The words dried up and he shrugged helplessly, not sure what he'd thought when he'd seen that. He remembered how he'd felt.
Ellie's exhale whispered across his skin. "He was an angel for millennia, and he's been on earth for three thousand years, Dean – and I asked him to help."
"Yeah." He heard the flatness in his voice and cleared his throat. "Uh, I know."
Quite abruptly, he realised he didn't want to talk about it any more. Or think about it. He'd been a dick. He got that. He wanted it to be over. Releasing Ellie's hand, he slid his up her thigh.
"No," Ellie said, capturing his hand on her hip and holding it in place.
"No?"
"No. You don't get to start a conversation like this and then just pull the plug whenever it gets too hard," she clarified.
He kept his eyes on his hand, under hers. "Alright, what do you want me to say?"
That hadn't been what he'd meant to say and he felt her twitch, knew she was going to pull away, adding hurriedly, "Wait – okay? I'm sorry. That came out wrong."
She looked at him, her expression wary. "Yeah, it really did."
Fuck, he thought. He didn't know why he'd gotten bent out of shape by the way the Watcher'd talked about her. He didn't know why he'd let it distract him from the job they'd had to do – or why he hadn't been able to control the impulse to protect his brother – or why he hadn't dealt with fucking up their chance of containing the devil. It'd been one thing after another.
"I –" he started, and suddenly the words came out in a rush, before he even knew what he was going to say. "I wanted – uh – want – to be the one who knows about you."
It sounded a lot worse out loud than he'd thought it would. "Dumb, huh?"
"You were jealous?"
He let out his breath. "It might've been something in the, uh, general vicinity of – the ballpark, of, uh – you know."
"You were," Ellie said, her eyes widening.
"You about done with this?" he asked, squirming against the covers.
"Not even close," she said, her mouth quirking to one side. "Pen doesn't like airports any better than you do. He was out of his comfort zone."
He blew out a noncommittal exhale and shrugged.
"And for the record?" Ellie continued, sliding closer. "You know more about me than anyone else."
"Doesn't feel like that," he muttered, under his breath.
"Maybe not," she agreed. "But we're not in a rush, are we? We've got time. The rest of our lives?" she asked, taking his hand and resting it over her stomach.
He looked down at his hand, feeling the curve under it. "The way things are going, the rest of our lives might not be that long."
She smiled. "Good point."
Rolling onto his shoulder, he said, "You can't leave me in the dark."
"I'm not trying to do that." She sighed, settling down against him again, wrapping her arm around him. "Mostly, things happen and once they're over, I don't really look at them again. I mean, you do it too."
"Yeah," he agreed reluctantly. He did. "You still know more about me than I do about you."
Wrinkling her nose at him, she said, "Dean – I ask."
He huffed. "I've asked," he said. "You change the subject."
She snorted. "Not always."
"Usually."
"Alright," she said. "You ask, and I'll tell you."
"Not the summarised version, Ellie," he warned her softly. She smiled wryly.
"No, not the summarised version," she agreed.
9 a.m. July 4, 2012.
The little convoy got on the road, splitting up as they left the city to take different routes to St Louis. In the white pickup, Dean checked them off as they pulled onto the street in front of him; Carol in the passenger seat of Sam's Jeep, Twist and Dwight in Twist's truck, Garth riding shotgun in Marcus' Nova. Trent in his four-wheel drive and Moses and Laney in the black four wheel drive pickup.
Dean watched his brother turn west, as he kept straight on. He was a little surprised to find that he wasn't particularly worried about them splitting up. He felt Ellie's glance and looked over at her.
"No twinges?" she asked quietly.
He shook his head. "No, I can concentrate on what we're doing, not worry about him."
He smiled a little at the memory of his brother's expression when they'd met up outside the motel, watching Carol get out of Marcus' truck and walk across the car park. The girl wasn't an airhead and at least his brother didn't have to put with Garth for the ride. "And I think he's going to prefer the company he's got now."
The phone rang and Ellie picked it up. She listened for a few minutes and closed it again.
"She's still in St Louis."
"You think she's meeting someone there?"
"Yeah, that would be my guess." Ellie looked out the window. "The question is who?"
Dean exhaled noisily. "Too many contenders."
11.00 a.m. R-116, Illinois
Sam glanced at the young woman sitting next to him. The silence had stretched out quite a bit and he still couldn't think of anything to say.
Carol turned to look at him. "Ellie said you went to college?"
College, he thought, relaxing slightly. "Uh, yeah, did four years at Stanford."
"What were you aiming for?"
"Law degree."
"Really?" She smiled. "Doesn't fit in with hunting."
"No, I was getting out."
"Oh."
He decided to change the direction before it got too close to what he couldn't talk about. "What were you studying?"
"Uh, got a Bachelor's in Science. My dad wanted me to get a medical degree. Figured it would be useful to have a doctor in the family." She shook her head.
"You didn't, uh, want to be a doctor?"
"Sure, it would've been okay. A lot of years training and all that."
"What happened?"
"He died. My mom wanted me to keep going with pre-med, but I couldn't see the point. So I left college and started hunting with Uncle Marcus." She looked at him, seeing the wrinkles in his forehead. "It's okay. I mean it's practically what happens to everyone, isn't it?"
Yeah, pretty much, he thought tiredly. "I'm sorry about your dad."
"Thanks."
"So now you're, uh, hunting with Marcus all the time?"
"Well, I just got back from college. He's trying his best to push me into doing something else. I just don't know what else to do."
Sam looked at her. "There are a million better things to do than this."
She shrugged. "Mmmm … yeah, that's what everyone keeps telling me."
"They're right." Sam heard his voice hardening. Geez, tone it down, he told himself.
"You, uh, could do anything. You could have a normal life," he added more moderately.
"You didn't," she said.
"That was different."
He was surprised when she laughed. "Yeah, for everyone else, it's always different."
"I wanted to get out." His fingers tightened on the wheel. "The girl I wanted to marry was murdered so that I didn't get out."
He hadn't meant to say it, hadn't meant for it to come out so - so brutally. He kept his eyes on the road, aware he was straining to hear her reaction, the silence welling up in the interior of the car like a slow artesian spring.
"I'm sorry," she said finally. "I didn't mean to –"
"You weren't." He shook his head. "It's just that I really wanted out. And you could still get out, before the life brings you so many enemies it's impossible to leave."
He thought of his brother, almost out, then dragged back in because he couldn't protect the people he was with. Maybe it was different now, but he could still see Dean's face, twisted in the agony of not knowing how to keep Lisa and Ben safe, not knowing how to protect them from his past, from everything that haunted him. They'd been civilians, not knowing what to expect and he thought it'd made Dean's rejection of a normal life that much worse. Jess' death had been seven years ago, and he still felt the guilt. It didn't matter she'd been chosen to push him back into hunting, before he'd met her, before he'd fallen in love with her – if it hadn't been for him, she'd be alive now.
Carol was silent, looking out through the windshield, watching the ribbon of road in front of them.
The shrill ringtone broke through the quiet in the vehicle and he pulled it from his coat pocket quickly, listening to Frank's instructions. When the call ended, he scanned the road for the next exit sign. They could come into St Louis from the west, rather than south as he'd planned.
"Was that Frank?" She turned to him, eyebrow lifted questioningly.
"Yeah. We're meeting at a motel. Dean, Moses and Ellie are scouting the building, and we'll go in after dark to trap Meg."
1.00 p.m. St Louis, Missouri
Adjusting the earpiece tucked into her left ear, Ellie lay along the narrow catwalk that ringed the top of the huge fuel tank.
"You in position?" Dean's voice said through the comms set.
"Yeah," she responded in a low voice, touching the mike that lay flat against her throat. "Nothing moving over there."
She was forty feet from the ground, almost three hundred yards from the warehouse. Between the tank and the empty building in front of her, scraggling saplings and thick shrubs covered the open ground. Beyond them, an unkempt gravel parking lot backed onto the river's edge, the scent of mudbanks and spilled diesel wafting occasionally to her in the breathless heat.
Within the line of stunted undergrowth, and close to the water's edge, she picked out Dean and Moses, crabbing their way slowly to the jetty that belonged to the warehouse. Both wore mixed camouflage fatigues, blending in with the drab surroundings.
She tightened the focus on the military Bird glasses. "About thirty yards and you'll be directly behind the warehouse."
"Right."
Shifting her field of view, Ellie refocussed on the building. The crane's structure was clearly visible, the long arm extending from structure to the building. Along the side of the warehouse's western wall, small windows punctuated the length. She couldn't see through them, the sun's angle already glaring in the glass panes. Switching to the unit's thermal imager, she scanned over the building slowly.
In the centre, the imager picked up a warm body. Making a correction for the external heat of the building in the afternoon sun, Ellie watched the image come into focus. The demon was moving, walking slowly from one end of the room to the other.
"Got her."
"Where?" Dean's voice asked in her ear.
"Top floor, centre of the western side of the building," she answered. "She's alone."
"What's she doing?"
"Pacing, by the looks of it," she said.
"Any chance we can take care of this now and get it over with?"
"Negative," Ellie said. "No chance. Too many ways out."
"So Plan A?"
"Yeah." She moved the imager back to the crane. "Bait and switch."
"Do we need to go in?" Dean asked.
"No," Ellie said. "Just check the perimeter for easy access at ground level."
"Got it," he answered. "You gonna keep an eye on her?"
"Yep, I got her."
Moving the imager back to the room where Meg was still pacing, Ellie wondered who the demon was waiting for. The steady and relentless pacing didn't give much support to the idea it was a friend.
At the corner of the warehouse, Dean leaned against the wall, waiting for Moses to cross the gravelled lot. Distantly, he could hear the work going on in the scrap metal yard on the right side of the building, and further still the hoots and sounds from upstream, but the weedy lot and warehouse were silent, heat radiating off the metal siding and slowly cooking him.
Moses reached the corner and cocked a brow. Dean nodded, jerking his thumb to the left side of the building. They could each take a side, check out the hardware and doors.
The enormous roller door next to him had a couple of standard locks, nothing that'd take more than a minute to get through. Turning to the right, he following the wall of the building up the long side. The only regular-sized door was on the other side. Reaching the next corner, he glanced around. The road that ran parallel to the river was empty, its tarmac baking in the mid-summer heat. The front lot was smaller than the rear. Tired, dispirited-looking grass struggled to grow through the gravel, browned off and matted close to the gates.
From around the other corner, Moses appeared silently and they met at the huge roller door at the front, a glance showing the locks to be exactly the same as those at the back.
"Postern's got a dead-bolt," Moses said in a low voice. "Nothin' fancy."
"Good." He wiped an arm over his face, the sweat running in rivulets down his back itching. "Let's get the fuck outta here."
"After you." The bigger man nodded, eyes slitted against the glare as he casually scanned around the empty ground. "Go in after dark?"
Dean nodded as they walked around the far corner, the soft-soled combat boots silent on the cracked, concrete walkway to the river end of the building. As he passed the postern door, he glanced at it, verifying Moses' assessment. Nothin' fancy. Sam wouldn't have a problem with it.
"Hopefully it'll be cooler," Dean muttered. "We clear?"
"Yes." Ellie's voice was low and crisp in his earpiece. "Go."
Crossing the open back lot at a doubled-over run, he dropped below the levee embankment and rolled out of the way as Moses jumped down beside him.
Ellie would go in, attract Meg's attention and rabbit for the stairs. He'd be behind them both, he hoped. And, at the foot of the narrow, metal stairs, there'd be a circle of holy oil, reading for lighting and nine hunters, blocking every other way out.
It'd work, he thought, moving through the thick mud by the river's edge. If whoever Meg was hanging around for didn't show up. If the demon was distracted enough. If Lucifer hadn't regained enough power to knock them all into next week.
If … if … if.