9:30.
The sun had set, and darkness engulfed the sky. The city of Oak Park, Illinois, was quiet and still. Along a desolate road, a man stepped out onto his front porch, swinging a black trash bag behind him. His door clanged shut.
He crossed his driveway and headed for the garbage cans, when a glint caught his eye. His neighbor's new car, gleaming in the moonlight. He glanced back at his own car, rusty and banged-up as it was. He let out a sigh, shrugging off the pang of jealousy that hit him.
He removed the lid from the metal can and tossed his trash inside, then began to head back to his house. As soon as he reached his car, however, the trash cans started to rattle, like something was attempting to escape from within. Then the streetlamps began to flicker, plunging the road into occasional darkness at the same moment that a barking dog could be heard in the distance. His house lights, along with everyone else's, flashed sporadically. A crashing noise above made him look up.
A huge, writhing mass of storm clouds filled the sky, lightning crackling within. Thunder boomed as it pulsed and shuddered. He moved forward to gaze at the storm, mouth agape.
Suddenly, a thin funnel of smoke broke away from the clouds, followed by a myriad of identical ones, all racing towards the ground at breakneck speed. He backed away in fright, then turned and ran for his door, banging into the trash cans in his hurry. He glanced back every few moments in an attempt to keep his eye on the mysterious smoke, but that ended up slowing him down, and the funnel reached him easily. It bowled him over, forcing him to sprawl out on his back as it reared its swirling head and plunged into his mouth, tunneling all the way inside until the smoke was gone.
The demon opened its pitch black eyes. It slowly stood up, taking advantage of its host's full height. Car alarms blared, and streetlamps buzzed with energy. It watched the rest of its brethren descend on the glowing city in a roiling, furious mass of hellspawn.
~ One Week Later ~
Sam Winchester perused an old volume of lore, shining his flashlight on the brittle pages in question. He narrowed his eyes in interest when a title caught his attention: Devil at the Crossroads.
Glancing up at the house he was parked in front of, he saw Dean in the window, wearing a white tank top. Dean grinned at him and gave him a thumbs-up. Sam raised an eyebrow, but nodded in acknowledgement nonetheless. Dean's smile brightened, and he swept the curtains together, but that did nothing to hide the shadows behind it.
Sam sighed and shook his head. His phone rang; the caller I.D said it was Bobby. "Hello?"
"Hey, Sam."
"Hey, Bobby."
"Whatcha doing?" Bobby asked.
"Oh, same-old, same-old," Sam replied, picking absently at the book cover.
"You buried in that book again?" A pause. "Sam, you wanna break Dean free of that demon deal, you ain't gonna find the answer in no book."
"Then where, Bobby?" Sam's tone was weary.
"Kid, I wish I knew. So where's your brother?"
Sam watched as the shadows behind the curtains vanished. "Polling the electorate."
"What?"
"Never mind."
"Well, you boys better pack it up. I think I finally found something."
Sam jogged up to the house and tested the front door. When he found it was unlocked, he eased it open and stepped inside. "Dean? Dean, you conscious? Bobby called, and he thinks that maybe we-" Sam stopped short once he witnessed the scene within. "Oh, god." He choked and backed up, hurriedly slamming the door behind him.
The Impala skipped along the road as Dean stepped on the gas, grinning widely. Sam clutched the armrest, bouncing in his seat.
"Let me see your knife," Sam said.
"What for?" Dean asked.
"So I can gouge my eyes out."
Dean chuckled. "It was a beautiful, natural act, Sam."
"It was a part of you I never wanted to see, Dean," Sam replied flatly.
Dean laughed and patted Sam's knee. "Hey, I appreciate you giving me a little quality time with the Doublemint Twins."
"No problem."
"Really?" Dean glanced at him, surprised. "Well, I gotta say, I was expecting a weary sigh or an eye roll, something."
"Not at all, you deserve to have a little fun." Sam fixed his stare on the road ahead, letting out a soft breath.
"Well, I'm in violent agreement with you there. What's Bobby got?"
"Not much. Crop failure and a cicada swarm outside of Lincoln, Nebraska," Sam rattled off. "Could be demonic omens."
"Or could just be a bad crop and a bug problem," Dean countered.
"Yeah, but it's our only lead."
"Any freaky deaths?"
"Nothing Bobby could find - not yet, anyway."
"It's weird, man," Dean remarked, "I mean, the night that the Devil's Gate opened, all these weirdo storm clouds were sighted over how many cities?"
"17," Sam supplied.
"17. You think it would be 'Apocalypse Now', but it's been five days and bubkes." Dean looked over at Sam, who only pressed his lips together. "What are the demons waiting for?"
"Beats me."
"It's driving me crazy," Dean muttered. "I tell you, if it's gonna be war, I wish it would just start already."
"I don't know, man. Be careful what you wish for," Sam warned grimly.
~ Just Outside Lincoln Nebraska ~
Cicadas buzzed in the warm afternoon, filling the air with their raucous chirping. Hanging linens rippled in the breeze, and barbed wire wound around an electrical pole. A 'No Trespassing' sign was nailed to a post. Sam and Dean pulled up in front of a cozy, two-story house, gravel crunching beneath the Impala's tires. Dean munched on a burger as he stepped out of the car.
"Hear those cicadas?" Sam noticed.
"That can't be a good sign."
"No. No, it can't."
Bobby was waiting for them, leaning on the back of his grimy car. He raised an eyebrow at Dean. "So, we're eating bacon cheeseburgers for breakfast, are we?"
"Well, sold my soul," Dean said flippantly, taking another generous bite, "got a year to live. I ain't sweating the cholesterol."
"So Bobby, what do you think?" Sam interrupted, changing the subject. "We got a biblical plague here, or what?"
"Well, let's find out." Bobby started to head for the house, the boys trailing behind him. "Looks like the swarm's ground zero."
Dean knocked on the front door a few times. In the absence of a reply, he called out obnoxiously, "Candygram!" Dean waited for a moment, then fished around in his pocket and produced a lockpick. Bobby cocked his gun.
As soon as the door swung open, the trio was hit with a rancid odor, causing Dean to cough violently and grimace.
"That's awful," Sam sniffed.
"That so can't be a good sign," Dean added.
Bobby took off down a separate hallway, and the brothers proceeded together, with Dean in front and Sam bringing up the rear. When they reached another entrance, Dean nodded to his brother, then jumped around the corner, aiming his weapon around the empty room. They both exchanged a glance. They checked the next few rooms, coming up empty-handed each time. As they neared a window, a faint scream drew their attention.
"You hear that?" Sam muttered.
They paused before the last door. Gripping his gun tight, Sam slammed his weight against the wood, popping it open with a crash. The brothers braced themselves for whatever could be waiting within.
"Ugh," Dean groaned, covering his nose with his arm. The smell was even worse in there, permeating the air with the stench of rot. Sam made a similar noise of disgust.
A TV was playing across the room, airing a sort of soap opera drama. On the couch sat a family, each member silent and unmoving. They were dead.
"Oh my god," Sam gasped, wrinkling his nose.
As they moved closer, what they saw confirmed their fears: the family was no more than a group of corpses now, their bodies grey and wrinkled with decay, their cheeks hollow and eyes vacant. Flies buzzed around the bodies. Bobby stepped into the room and grimaced.
"Bobby, what the hell happened here?" Sam asked.
"I don't know," Bobby admitted.
"Check for sulfur," Dean ordered.
"... for one of his big deals," the TV sobbed, as the trio walked around the room, inspecting the windowsills and armrests for the yellow powder. "And now you're gonna buy my clothes! I hate this family!"
Creeeak.
Dean stiffened. He whistled lowly. Sam and Bobby tensed as Dean waved for them to go around the back. Meanwhile, Dean eased open the front door, peeking out at the patio. He stepped outside and leaned over the railing for a better look. The cicada chirping died down to a dull buzz. Dean walked a few feet, about to turn the corner, when someone lunged from the bushes and crashed into him, knocking the gun from his hands and sending him to the ground. An African-American man cocked his own gun, aiming it at Dean's head. A woman joined him, peering over his shoulder at Dean.
"Isaac? Tamara?"
Dean tilted his head back to see Bobby, striding over to them with all the ease in the world.
"Bobby? What the hell are you doing here?" the woman, supposedly Tamara, questioned. Her voice had a British lilt to it.
"I could ask the same." Bobby smiled at the pair.
"Heya, Bobby," Isaac exclaimed, extending a hand. The two shook hands.
"Hello?" Dean called, waving from the ground. "Bleeding here."
~ Isaac & and Tamara's House ~
Night had fallen. The five hunters stood around inside Isaac and Tamara's house, where they had a set-up similar to Bobby's. Dean leaned in the doorway, chatting on the phone with a woman. Bobby inspected some maps pinned to a board, while Sam delicately handled some bones hanging from the ceiling.
"Honey, where's the Palo Santo?" Isaac asked.
"Well, where'd you leave it?"
"I don't know, dear," Isaac sighed in exasperation. "That's why I'm asking."
"Palo Santo?" Sam questioned, releasing the hangings.
"It's holy wood from Peru," Tamara explained, crossing the room to help Isaac look. "It's toxic to demons, like holy water. Keeps the bastards nailed down while you're exorcising them." She fished the stake of Palo Santo from a chest and handed it to Isaac.
"Thank you, dear."
"You'd lose your head if it wasn't for me," Tamara reprimanded, not unkindly.
"So, how long you two been married?" Sam asked.
"Eight years, this past June." Tamara smiled. Isaac leaned over and kissed her forehead while Sam chuckled in disbelief.
"The family that slays together..." Isaac started.
"Right. I'm with you there," said Sam. "So how'd you get started?"
Instantly, the couple sobered up. The atmosphere turned tense, as the smile faded from Tamara's face. She cast her gaze to the floor. Isaac let out a soft sigh. Sam, upon realizing that the question he'd asked was inappropriate, promptly apologized.
"Oh, you know, I'm sorry. It's not - that's none of my business." Glancing over at Bobby, the older man gave him a warning look.
"No, no, it's alright," Tamara assured him, although the expression she was trying to conceal told him otherwise.
"Well, Jenny, if you look as pretty as you sound," Dean was saying as he strolled into the room, the phone still pressed to his ear. "Then I'd love to have an-" he gave a Sam a bewildered look, "-appletini. Yeah. Call you." Dean flipped the phone shut and pocketed it. "That was the coroner's tech."
"And?"
"Get this - that whole family, cause of death? Dehydration and starvation. There's no signs of restraint, no violence, no struggle; they just sat down and never got up."
"But there was a fully stocked kitchen just yards away," Bobby replied, frowning.
"Right," Sam agreed. "What is this, a demon attack?"
"If it is, it's not like anything I ever saw, and I've seen plenty."
"What now?" Dean asked. "What should we do?"
"Uh, we're not going to do anything," Isaac interjected, shaking his head.
"What do you mean?" asked Sam.
"You guys seem nice enough," Isaac placated, "but this ain't 'Scooby-Doo', and we don't play well with others."
"Well, I think we'd cover a lot more ground if we all worked together," Sam tried.
Isaac's tone took on a biting edge. "No offense, but we're not teaming with the damn fools who let the Devil's Gate get open in the first place."
"No offense?" Dean wondered aloud.
"Isaac, like you've never made a mistake," Tamara scolded, noticing the hostility forming between the groups.
"Yeah, locked my keys in the car. Turned my laundry pink." Isaac glared at Sam and Dean. "Never brought on the end of the world, though."
Dean chuckled humorlessly. "Alright, that's enough."
"Guys, this isn't helping," Sam mediated. "Dean-"
"Look," Isaac interrupted. "There are a couple hundred more demons out there now. We don't know where they are, when they'll strike. There ain't enough hunters in the world to handle something like this. You brought war down on us - on all of us."
"Okay, that's quite enough testosterone for now." Tamara grasped Isaac's arm and dragged him out of the room, shooting Sam the briefest of apologetic looks before vanishing.
Outside the house, hidden among the shadows, lurked a girl. She fixed her gaze on the house as the lights began to flicker.
Walter Rosen strolled into a store, seemingly aimlessly. He surveyed the occupants, until his gaze landed on a woman who was picking through some clothes. He walked up to her and tapped her. "Excuse me?"
She turned to face him. "Yes?"
He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "Those are... nice, shoes."
She glanced over at another woman with dark hair, who was examining a pair of green heels. "Oh yeah. They are nice." She looked back at Walter, who gave her an encouraging nod.
"Those are nice shoes," she said to the other woman, staring at said footwear.
"Aren't they?" the other agreed, smiling.
"I want them."
"Sorry. Last pair." And with that, the dark-haired lady walked away. As she proceeded to her car, the blonde followed her.
"Excuse me? I want those shoes," the blonde demanded.
"What? Are you crazy? No."
The blonde grabbed the woman and began slamming her into the car's windshield, eliciting cries of pain from the latter. The glass cracked, and blood gushed from the woman's eye. The car alarm went off, and people along the street screamed. The blonde tossed her victim to the ground, where she lay motionless. She scooped the bag of shoes off the ground and strode away, without looking back.
Sam watched the police investigate the crime scene, swabbing some blood off the concrete. He turned and stepped inside the store, where Dean was chatting to a woman.
"What happened outside makes you realize how fragile life really is," Dean was saying gently. The lady nodded along to his words. "You gotta make every second count." Sam coughed. "Excuse me a minute, would you?"
Sam sighed wearily. "Dean, what are you doing?"
"I'm comforting the bereaved. What are you doing?"
"Working," Sam replied shortly. "Dead body, possible demon attack - that kind of stuff."
"Sam, I'm sorry, it's just, you know, I don't have much time left, and…" He coughed. "Gotta make every second count."
"Yeah, right. Sorry."
"Apology accepted." Dean grinned. Bobby walked up behind him and inspected himself in the mirror. He was now dressed in a suit and tie, his hair combed back. Dean whistled. "Looking spiffy, Bobby. What were you, a G-man?"
"Attorney for the D.A's office," Bobby corrected. "I just spoke to the suspect."
"Yeah? So, what do you think?" Sam asked. "Is she possessed or what?"
"Don't think so. There's none of the usual signs: no blackouts, no loss of control. Totally lucid. Just, she really wanted those shoes. Spilled a glass of holy water on her just to be sure. Nothing."
"Maybe she's just some random wack job," Dean suggested.
"If it had been an isolated incident, maybe, but first the family, now this? I believe in a lot of things," Bobby said, "coincidence ain't one of 'em. Did you boys find anything around here?"
"No sulfur, nothing." Sam gave a little shrug.
"Well, maybe something," Dean interjected. He swiveled around, drawing everyone's attention to the security camera above their heads. He raised an eyebrow at Sam. "See? I'm working."
Bobby leaned over Sam's shoulder at the security cam. "Anything interesting?"
"I don't know yet," Sam replied. He rewound the footage, watching a man walk into the shop. "Might just be a guy- or it might be our guy." Together, they watched the man step up to the suspect, setting a hand on her shoulder and nodding at the victim. The trio exchanged a knowing look.
Outside the shop, Sam headed off down the street by himself, hands shoved into his pockets. He stared straight ahead, although something told him to turn around. An odd feeling washed over him, as if he were being watched. When he whirled around to look, he saw only empty air.
~ 12:07, The Old Terminal Pub ~
Bobby yawned. "What time is it?"
"Seven past midnight," Dean replied, after checking his watch.
Both of them were seated inside the Impala, parked in front of a pub. The sky was an inky black, and the parking lot was illuminated solely by streetlamps and glowing storefront signs.
"You sure this is the right place?" Bobby asked.
"No. But I spent all day canvassing this stupid town with this guy's stupid mug-" Dean briefly held up a photo of the suspect, "-and, supposedly, he drinks at this stupid bar."
Knock knock knock!
Dean yelped and flinched, whipping around in his seat to see Sam banging on his window, a shit-eating grin on his face.
"That's not funny," Dean muttered, as Sam opened the passenger door and forced Dean to lean forward uncomfortably, so he could squeeze into the back.
"Alright, so," Sam started, adjusting himself in the back seat. "John Doe's name is Walter Rosen. He's from Oak Park, just west of Chicago. Went missing about a week ago."
"The night the Devil's Gate opened?" Dean asked.
"Yeah."
"So you think he's possessed?"
"It's a good bet." Sam met Bobby's gaze in the mirror. "So what, he just walks up to someone, touches them, and they go stark raving psycho or something?"
"Those demons that got out of the Gate- they're gonna be able do all kinds of things we haven't seen."
"You mean the demons we let out?"
"Guys," Dean said, stopping the conversation from veering into uncharted territory.
Across the parking lot, none other than Walter Rosen stepped out of his car, slamming the door behind him. He wore a dark green shirt and a jacket over it, and his gait was quick and leisurely.
"Alright," said Dean. "Showtime."
"Wait a minute," Bobby interjected.
"What?"
"What did I just say?" Bobby gave Dean a look. "We don't know what to expect out of this guy. We should tail him, 'til we know for sure."
"Oh, so he kills someone and we just sit here with our junk in our hands?"
"We're no good dead!" Bobby cried. He took in a deep breath, and when he spoke next, his voice was calmer. "And we're not gonna make a move until we know what the score is."
"Hey Bobby, I don't think that's an option," Sam piped up.
"Why not?"
Sam gestured outside the car, where Isaac and Tamara were walking across the parking lot towards the pub.
Bobby smacked the dashboard. "Damn it!"
Isaac and Tamara were sitting inside the pub at a table, facing away from their target. As faint rock music played from the jukebox, Walter Rosen tipped back his drink. A waitress walked by and slid two drinks in front of them.
"Thank you," Isaac said.
The waitress smiled. "You're welcome."
Tamara glanced over at Rosen. Isaac fingered his flask of holy water, and the two shared a look. In total, there seemed to be about seven people inside, so they knew they couldn't make a scene.
Then, Rosen got up and walked past them, headed for the restrooms.
"Pull the car in back," Isaac told her lowly. "We'll be right out."
Tamara reached over and took his hand in hers. "I love you."
"I know," Isaac replied, smiling. He stood up and went to follow after Rosen.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed his arm and roughly wheeled him around. A tall, muscular man regarded him coldly. The bar's other patrons turned to watch the scene, amusement twinkling in their eyes. "What do you think you're doing?"
Tamara shot to her feet, tensing.
"I'm just hitting the head," Isaac tried.
"No." The man wrenched the holy water from his grasp and flung it across the room. "I mean, what do you think you're doing here?" Darkness swallowed up his pupils, and Tamara gasped. "I don't like hunters in my bar," he growled.
The waitress moved closer, and her eyes were black too. Behind the tall demon, Rosen stepped into view, his eyes darkening. The other four patrons rose to their feet. All demons.
The doors groaned at the hinges. Outside, Sam and Dean threw their weight against the double doors, desperately attempting to bust them open.
"Man, you really walked into the wrong place," Rosen taunted.
Tamara took in a shuddering breath, clutching Isaac's sleeve in terror.
"Hold on," said a waitress. "I like the girl."
"Wish I had me a girl like that," Rosen murmured. The other demons chuckled.
"I can think of about a thousand things I'd like to do to her," the waitress continued, smirking.
"You're not gonna lay one filthy finger on her!" Isaac snapped.
"I got something for you," one of the demons said, walking past Isaac. It lifted a jug of drain cleaner. It laid one hand on Isaac's shoulder. "Here. Have a drink on me, hm?" The demons broke out into raucous laughter.
"Isaac?" Tamara whimpered. A waitress demon gripped her by the arms, restraining her.
"On the house!" Rosen cried, grinning.
Isaac stared at the drain cleaner for only a moment longer, then tipped back the jug and began chugging the toxic liquid. It foamed around his mouth and soaked into his shirt, yet he continued to drink as if he were severely dehydrated.
"ISAAC!" Tamara screamed. Tears streamed down her face. "ISAAC, NO! BABY PLEASE!"
The seven demons roared with laughter.
When the bottle was empty, Isaac released it. Blood poured from his lips and nose, choking him, staining his clothes a deep red. Isaac swayed on his feet, gurgling, before collapsing into the puddle of drain cleaner and crimson blood. The demons made noises of disappointment.
Tamara sobbed.
"Oh, he's down!" Rosen exclaimed. His lips curved into a malicious grin. "Alright, honey. Your turn!"
CRASH!
Bobby's car smashed into the bar, the back end demolishing the doors and knocking several demons to the ground. Wood splinters and chairs went flying, slamming into the walls with a deafening sound. Bobby lunged out of the front seat. He drenched the closest demon in holy water, causing the creature to hiss in pain and recoil. Sam followed soon after, swinging a flask of holy water and spraying the demons nearest to them. Once the path was clear, Sam grabbed Tamara. He started to drag her back to the car. Tamara shrieked and struggled, desperate to reach her husband.
"Come on! We gotta go!" Sam shouted over the ruckus. "He's dead! Get in the car!" Dean and Bobby warded off the demons while Sam forced a panicking Tamara into the back seat. As Bobby jumped into the front seat, Sam beckoned sharply at his brother. "Dean, come on!"
Dean flung open the trunk. He tried to splash more holy water on his attacker, Rosen, but he came up empty. Rosen gave a dangerous chuckle and darted towards Dean. The hunter let his instincts take over, elbowing Rosen in the gut and deflecting his blow. Dean followed his momentum and tossed the thrashing demon in the trunk, then slammed the door. He ran around the side and threw himself into the passenger seat.
Bobby stomped on the gas, and they raced away from the bar.
~ Tamara's House ~
"...and I say we're going back, now!"
"Hold on a second," said Sam.
"I left my husband bloody on the floor!" Tamara cried.
"Okay, I understand that, but we can't go back."
"Fine, then you stay." Tamara jabbed a finger at Sam. "But I'm heading back to that bar."
"I'll go with her," Dean added.
"It's suicide, Dean," Sam snapped.
"So what? I'm dead already."
Sam paused. His face twisted into an unreadable expression. "How you gonna kill them? Can't shoot them. You can't stab them. They're not just gonna wait in line to get exorcised!"
"I don't care!" Tamara shrieked, her voice anguished.
"We don't even know how many of them there are!"
"Yeah we do," Bobby intervened. In his hands, he held a dusty book of lore. "There's seven. Do you have any idea of who we're up against?"
Dean frowned. "No. Who?"
"The seven deadly sins, live and in the flesh!"
Huffing in disbelief, Dean joked, "'What's in the box?!'"
Everyone stared at him.
"Brad Pitt? 'Se7en'?" he tried. "No?" Bobby slammed the book shut and tossed it at Dean, who flinched. "What's this?"
"'Binsfeld's Classification of Demons'," Bobby explained. "In 1589, Binsfeld I.D'd the seven sins - not just as human vices, but as actual devils."
"The family," Sam realized. "They were touched by sloth. And the shopper-"
"That's envy's doing," Bobby finished. His voice was steadily rising in volume as the sheer weight of their problem became evident. "The customer we got in the next room. I couldn't suss it out at first until Isaac. He was touched with an awful gluttony."
"I don't give a rat's ass if they're the three stooges or the four tops!" Tamara snarled. "I'm gonna slaughter every last one of them!"
"We already did it your way," Bobby countered. Tamara balked under the intensity of the older man's glare. "You burst in there half-cocked and look what happened! These demons haven't been topside in half a millenium! We're talking medieval, dark ages. We've never faced anything close to this! So we are going to take a breath-" Bobby stepped closer to Tamara, as if he needed to make his point any clearer, "-and FIGURE OUT WHAT OUR NEXT MOVE IS!"
Tamara's lip wobbled, and her eyes gleamed with unshed tears.
Bobby breathed deeply, then spoke. "I am sorry for your loss."
Glancing between the brothers, and, finding no support, Tamara strode out of the room with quick, even steps. Bobby followed after her.
The brothers exchanged a look. They had never seen Bobby that angry before, not even when he banned their father from ever contacting him again. After a moment, they headed to the room where Envy was tied to a chair beneath a Devil's Trap.
A low, dark chuckle greeted them. Envy tilted his head in their direction. "So you know who I am, huh?"
"We do," Bobby replied. "We're not impressed."
"Why are you here? What are you after?" Sam asked.
Envy only watched them with curious eyes.
"He asked you a question," Dean said. He tossed the lore book onto a desk. "What do you want?"
Envy smiled. He seemed to be in disbelief as he laughed. It was a sharp, evil sound.
Dean unscrewed a flask and splashed the demon with holy water.
It steamed and burned his skin on contact, causing him to groan in pain. Envy bowed his head, panting, before answering, "We already have what we want."
"What's that?"
"We're out." Envy managed to sound matter-of-fact, despite the grimace he wore. "We're free. Thanks to you, my kind are everywhere. I am legion, for we are many. So me, I'm just celebrating. Having a little fun."
"Fun?" Sam questioned.
"Yeah, fun," Envy hissed. "See, some people crochet. Others golf. Me? I like to see people's insides... on their outside."
"I'm gonna put you down like a dog," Tamara promised.
"Please." Envy wheezed a laugh. "You really think you're better than me. Which one you can cast the first stone, huh? What about you, Dean? You're practically a walking billboard of gluttony and lust. And Tamara-" Envy gave the female hunter a once-over, and seemed dissatisfied with what he found, "-all that wrath." He tutted a few times, like a scolding parent. "It's the reason you and Isaac became hunters in the first place, isn't it? It's so much easier to drink in the rage, than to face what really happened all those years ago."
Tamara punched him in the face. His head snapped back, and she punched him again before Bobby and Dean restrained her.
Envy looked back up, chortling. He wiggled his jaw and popped it back into place. "My point exactly. And you call us sins. We're not sins, man! We are natural human instinct. And you can repress us and deny us all you want, but the truth is, you are just animals. Horny, greedy, hungry..." He laughed again, and his crystal blue eyes shone with feverish passion. "...violent animals. And you know what?" He leaned as far as he could, then widened his eyes as if he had a wild story to tell. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "You'll be slaughtered like animals, too."
The hunters stared at him, casting one another worried looks at the demon's ominous words.
But Envy wasn't finished with his lengthy monologue. He relaxed into his chair. "The others - they're coming for me."
"Maybe," Dean said, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smile of his own. "But they're not gonna find you... cause you'll be in Hell." The smug look dropped off of Envy's face. "Someone send this clown packing."
"My pleasure," said Tamara, flipping open the lore book to a page on exorcisms. Envy watched the other hunters exit the room, growing panic evident on his features. Tamara smirked. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas-"
Envy tipped back his head and screamed.
In the other room, the hunters stood in a circle, listening to Envy's shrill cries echo from nearby.
Bobby spoke in a low tone, "I don't think we're gonna have to worry about hunting them."
"What does that mean?" Sam asked.
"I think maybe this joker's right," Bobby replied, gesturing at the ceiling. "They're gonna be hunting us. And they're not gonna quit easy."
"You guys, why don't you take Tamara and head for the hills," Dean suggested. "I'll stay back, slow them down, buy you a little time."
"You're insane, Dean," Sam replied stiffly. "Just forget about it, okay?"
"Sam's right," Bobby agreed.
"There's six of them, guys." Dean sounded indignant, as if he had any right to argue with his family about committing suicide. "We're outmanned, we're outgunned. We'll be dead by dawn."
"Maybe, but there's no place to run that they won't find us." Bobby gave a little shrug.
"Look, if we're going down-" Sam sent his brother a pleading look, "-we're going down together, alright?"
Dean stared at them a few seconds, and, upon realizing this was a fight he could not win, he capitulated. "Let's not make it easy for them."
In the other room, a rush of wind and an echoing shriek told them Tamara had finished her exorcism. Tamara slammed the book closed and strode out of the room, chin held high and eyes fixed beyond the trio.
"Demon's out of the guy," she said.
"And the guy?" Sam prompted.
Tamara turned her back on them as she walked away. "He didn't make it."
Dean leaned against a wall, loading his gun. He cocked it, testing the mechanisms. On the other side of the room, Sam filled several flasks with holy water. The brothers worked in the flickering candlelight and silence.
At one point, both looked over at one another simultaneously. They shared a long look, filled with everything they didn't have a need to say. Dean's hand hovered over his gun, and Sam paused in filling the flask. The atmosphere was apprehensive, but not uncomfortable.
Suddenly, a radio buzzed to life, playing a station of blues guitar music. Sam and Dean both glanced towards it, then at each other once more. Dean cocked his rifle.
"Here we go," he announced.
The two approached the boarded-up windows, scanning the dark grounds for humanoid shapes in the night. Nothing.
"I shall be, I shall not be moved," the radio sang. "Like a tree that's planted by the water, I shall not be moved..."
Bobby and Tamara hovered near the front doors. Tamara stared out the window intently, moonlight slanting over her dark, striking features. Her arms were folded, and she radiated hostility. She hadn't spoken since Envy's exorcism. Bobby caught her eye, and they exchanged an unspoken message: It's time.
Suddenly, a hoarse voice reached them from outside. "TAMARA!"
Tamara glanced back at Bobby, who shook his head subtly. Her face contorted into an expression of grief.
"TAMARA!" Isaac screamed below, arms held out wide and blood dripping down his chin, teeth gleaming crimson. "TAMARA! HELP ME! PLEASE!"
Tamara sucked in a breath, clenching her fists.
Isaac lurched forward, gripping the rails for support, wincing with every step. "Tamara! I got away, but I'm hurt bad! I need help!"
"It's not him," Bobby assured her. "It's one of those demons. It's possessing his corpse."
The door creaked under the weight of Isaac's blows as he pounded on the wood. "Baby! Why won't you let me in? You left me behind back there. How could you do that?"
Biting her lip, Tamara withheld a sob.
"We swore-" Isaac continued, laboring for every syllable, "-at that lake, in Michigan. Remember? We swore we would never leave each other!"
"How did he know that?" Tamara cried. Tears streaked down her cheeks.
"Steady, Tamara," whispered Bobby.
"You just gonna leave me out here?" Isaac moaned. "You just gonna let me die?!" His tone took on a sinister edge. "I guess that's what you do, dear. Like that night those things came to our house... came for our daughter. You just let her die, too."
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Tamara wailed. She tore herself from Bobby's grasp, despite his shouting, and ripped open the front doors, tackling the possessed Isaac to the ground and pinning him with her knees. "You're not Isaac," she snarled, and stabbed him in the chest with a stake of Palo Santo. He writhed beneath her, growling and spitting in rage and agony.
In her anguish, she broke the salt line.
The rest of the demons rose from their hiding places and flooded into the house, four of them prowling upstairs, while a larger one, presumably Sloth, locked Bobby with an evil stare. Bobby put on a frightened front, backing up against a wall while the demon moved towards him. Then, unable to walk any further, the demon pushed against an invisible barrier, confusion wrinkling it's brows.
Bobby led Sloth's gaze to the devil's trap on the ceiling. He smiled. "Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life, son."
Upstairs, Dean jogged down the second floor, narrowly avoiding the she-demon that tried to grab him as he went by. He deflected her blow and backtracked. She smirked and stalked towards him. Below, a demon screamed as Bobby exorcised it.
Dean backed into an empty room as the black-eyed girl advanced. He noticed the blonde curls bouncing over her shoulder, her puckered, rosy lips. Everything about her was delightfully irresistible.
"I suppose you're Lust," Dean guessed.
"Baby, I'm whatever you want me to be," Lust purred.
"Just stay back," Dean warned.
"Or what?" Lust tilted her head, smiling faintly, seductively.
"...good point."
"I'm not gonna hurt you- not yet," Lust promised. She crossed the distance between them, placing a perfectly manicured hand on his chest. "Not unless you want me to."
Dean closed the gap and kissed her.
Above, Sam scrambled back as the door crashed open, showering him in wood chips and revealing a trio of demons.
The lead one grinned ravenously. "Here's Johnny!"
Sam gave an imperceptible sigh. Nice to know demons still have a sense of humor. They approached him, until the lead demon raised his hand, and the others paused. He looked up at the Devil's Trap on the ceiling.
"Come on," he sighed, eyes pooling into inky blackness. "You really think something like that is gonna fool someone like me? I mean, me?"
"Let me guess- you're Pride."
Pride smiled. He raised one hand in a flourish, and a crack arced through the ceiling, breaking the Devil's Trap. "The root of all sin," he said, an smug, infuriating look still dominating his features. "And you... are Sam Winchester. That's right. I've heard of you. We've all heard of you. The prodigy; the boy king. Looking at you now, I gotta tell you, don't believe the hype."
Sam narrowed his eyes into a glare.
Pride paused, a dark expression crossing his face. "You think I'm gonna bow to a cut-rate, piss-poor human like you? I have my pride, after all. And now with your yellow-eyed friend dead, I guess I don't really have to do a damn thing, now do I? You're fair game now, boy. And it's open season."
Dean and Lust kissed passionately, while Dean backed up slowly until he reached a pair of curtains. He broke away from her and, using his momentum, plunged her face-first into a tub of holy water. Lust screamed, the noise muffled by the water. Dean yanked her back out, letting her gasp in a lungful of air, then mercilessly dipped her back in again.
Sam hit the ground. Pride grabbed him by the shoulders and wrapped an arm around his throat, restricting his air. Sam choked and spluttered, clawing at the demon's arm while the trio cackled.
Then-
A girl emerged from the shadows, wielding a serrated knife the likes of which Sam had never seen before. She slit the first demon's throat, and orange light crackled in the wound before the demon collapsed, dead. She lunged forward and stabbed the second in the chest. Light flickered behind her eyes and lips as the demon tipped back her head in a soundless cry. Pride, seeing the massacre, released Sam and grabbed the girl, but Sam managed to distract Pride for just an instant, long enough for the girl to stab him beneath his chin. When she yanked the knife out, it was steaming.
Sam panted heavily, staring at his mysterious savior. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
"I'm the girl that just saved your ass," she replied.
"Well, I just saved yours too."
The girl huffed a laugh. "See you around, Sam."
"Wait!"
But when he turned the corner, she was gone.
~ The next morning ~
The early morning sun sent everyone into a contemplative mood. Three dead demons were laid out in a grave, blood staining their clothes where they'd been stabbed. Sam and Dean carefully lowered the last one into the dirt. They poured salt and gasoline over the corpses, then looked up across the field, where Tamara was standing vigil by Isaac's burning shroud.
"Think she's gonna be alright?" Sam wondered aloud.
"No," Dean said. "Definitely not."
Bobby trudged over to them, looking tired and grim.
"Well you looked like hell warmed over," Dean commented.
"You try exorcising all night and see how you feel," Bobby retorted.
"Any survivors, Bobby?" Sam asked.
"Well, the pretty girl, and the heavy guy, they'll make it." Bobby sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Lifetime of therapy bills ahead, but still..."
"That's more than you can say for these poor bastards," Dean said, referencing the three bodies in the grave.
"Bobby, that knife-" Sam cast Bobby a worried look, "What kind of blade can kill a demon?"
"Yesterday, I would have said there was no such thing."
"I'm just gonna ask it again- who was that masked chick?" Dean questioned, turning towards his brother with an eyebrow raised. "Actually, the more troubling question would be 'how come a girl can fight better than you?'"
"Three demons, Dean," Sam argued weakly. "At once."
Dean scoffed, then smiled. "Hey, whatever it takes to get you through the night, pal."
"Well, if you want a troubling question," Sam continued, ignoring Dean's comment. "I got one for you."
"What's that?"
"If we let out the seven deadly sins," Sam said, sobering. "What else did we let out?"
"You're right. That is troubling." And with that, Dean struck a match and tossed it into the grave, the trio solemnly watching the blazing fire claw at the sky.
"See you gents around," said Tamara, hoisting a bag over her shoulder. She began to walk away, but Bobby's voice stopped her.
"Tamara?"
She glanced back.
"The world just got a lot scarier," Bobby said. "Be careful."
"You too," she replied, with a finality that sounded much more ominous than it should have. With that, she got in her car, started the engine, and drove away.
"Keep your eyes peeled for omens," Bobby told them, once Tamara was gone. "I'll do the same."
"You got it," said Dean.
"Wait, Bobby," Sam called, when Bobby began to head off. His question was loaded, and pleading, a boy seeking assurance from the only father figure in his life. "We can win this war, right?"
Bobby's silence told him everything he needed to know. The older man sighed. "Catch you on the next one." And then he, too, was gone.
"So, where to?" Dean asked. He rubbed his hands together expectantly.
"Uh, I don't know." Sam shrugged. "I was thinking Louisiana, maybe."
"Little early for Mardi Gras, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Listen, I was talking to Tamara, and she mentioned this hoodoo priestess outside of Shreveport that might be able to help us out, you know, with your- with your demon deal."
Dean made a face. "Nah.
"'Nah'?" Sam scowled. "What does that mean, 'Nah'?"
"Sam, no hoodoo spell is gonna break this deal. It's a goose chase."
"We don't know that," Sam tried.
"Yes, we do," Dean replied. "Forget it. She can't help."
"Look, it's worth a-"
"We're not going, and that's that," Dean said sharply. His demeanor shifted to a relaxed disposition in an instant. "What about Reno, huh?" He patted Sam's arm and began to stride off.
Sam caught his arm. His tone reflected his frustration. "You know what? I've had it. I've been bending over backwards trying to be nice to you, and... I don't care anymore."
"That didn't last long."
"Yeah, well you know what? I've been busting my ass trying to keep you alive, Dean, and you act like you couldn't care less. What, you got some kind of death wish or something?"
"It's not like that," Dean said.
"Then what's it like, Dean?"
"Sam-"
"Please, tell me."
Sam said it with a sarcastic undertone, but Dean understood the true desire for understanding beneath it. Dean met his brother's eyes. "We trap the crossroads demon, trick it, try to welsh our way our way out of the deal in any way, you die, okay? You die. Those are the terms, there's no way out of it. If you try to find a way, so help me God, I'm gonna stop you."
Shoulders slumping, Sam let out a heavy sigh. "How could you make that deal, Dean?"
"Cause I couldn't live with you dead." Dean shook his head. "Couldn't do it."
"So what, now I live and you die?"
"That's the general idea, yeah."
"Yeah, well, you're a hypocrite, Dean," Sam snapped, as Dean began to head back to their car. He walked around in front to force his older brother to look him in the eye. "How did you feel when Dad sold his soul for you? Cause I was there. I remember. You were twisted, and broken. And now you go and do the same thing to me. What you did was selfish."
"Yeah, you're right," Dean agreed. "It was selfish. But I'm okay with that."
"I'm not."
"Tough. After everything I've done for this family, I think I'm entitled." Dean's lips curled in a exhausted copy of a smile. "Truth is, I'm tired, Sam. I don't know, it's like there's a light at the end of the tunnel."
"It's hellfire, Dean," Sam replied stiffly.
"Whatever. You're alive, I feel good, for the first time in a long time. I got a year to live, Sam. I'd like to make the most of it." Dean wiggled his eyebrows. "So what do you say we kill some evil sons of bitches and we raise a little hell, huh?"
Sam allowed a bit of humor to color his tone. "You're unbelievable."
Dean hovered in front of the Impala door, fingering his keys, and grinned. "Very true."
Then the two brothers drove off, down the well-worn road to an uncertain future, with only each other to keep them company.