Sorry for the late post but I completely forgot so yeah. Here you go anyway.
The deity stood in an endless hall with doors and honestly was disappointed that it wasn't a library, those always were the clearest model of memories. Her long strides led her a bit deeper into the corridor. Once, she had had a sinner whose perception of memory was portrayed as a giant zoo, where in every cage you could see a memory being played –her gaze slid across the hall, where there was absolutely nothing to differentiate these doors— that had really been the most disturbing experience she had had, and she thanked Zeus for never having putting her in a similar situation again.
Shrugging the thought away, the goddess approached one of the white wooden doors, but as only a few steps separated her from her objective, she was physically halted by a voice, which wasn't exactly difficult to identify. "Get. Out."
Her initial surprise overcome she quickly recovered and moved further, a mischievous grin on her perfect lips, heading straight for the nearest door while the growl of what seemed to be thunder intensified with each of her light steps. Teasing, she reached out as lazily as she could, her porcelain fingers barley grazing the metal door handle. The rumble morphed into a raging full blown thunderstorm, to the point the god could barely hear her own thoughts, but regardless she grabbed the handle fully. Before her mouth could curve into a satisfied smirk, her vision blurred into stripes of colors as she was lurched away from the corridor, away from the doors and what lay behind them.
The scenery became solid again, revealing a heavy breathing and—of course— nose-bleeding Cherry "We are a complicated one aren't we?" she practically purred, eyeing the concerned woman who now seriously questioned if she was going to die from blood loss rather than by the deity's hand.
"Don't worry love, we'll find something, you just wait. And because in the meantime I can't let myself starve…" She snapped her fingers and Dean instantly came to life, his too-heavy footsteps and string of venomous loathing making Sam openly whimper, his short breaths morphing into gasps as he tried to make himself look smaller.
It was only when Dean's foot connected with Sam's abdomen that Cherry understood what was going on. She flung herself between the two brothers, trying to shield Sam from the strikes raining down on his already battered body, but she never felt the impact come. Like the monstrosities from before, Dean's fists just passed through her, hitting Sam regardless. All she could do was hold his jerking body down as his pleas became hectic, gradually transforming into half-choked screams instead of apologies. In this very moment, despite every talent nature had given her, Cherry comprehended what being useless actually meant.
Did it last seconds? Minutes? Cherry wouldn't have been able to tell, but eventually the deity had had her fill of whatever she sought. She snapped her fingers again, and Dean immediately stopped everything he was doing, his face going from enraged to completely lax in nothing more than a blink, obediently following his master out of the chamber.
Sam was on the edge of consciousness, still twitching weakly at irregular intervals in Cherry's arms, and she could summon neither the will nor power to let him go. "It's o-over." She hiccupped "It's over." Sam's eyelids slid shut, and for a moment Cherry thought that his body had given up. She feverishly dug two fingers in his neck, earning a soft strangled cry from the Winchester, and found a pulse. It was not what you could call a normal heartbeat, and it was way too fast to be healthy, but it was a satisfying heartbeat nonetheless.
She leaned back against the wall, repositioning Sam so that at least his head wasn't settled on the floor and couldn't help but try to wipe away the blood on his face, even if what she ended up doing was more smearing it out a bit further. "It's going to be alright," she murmured voice still squashed by a lump in her throat "I'll get you out of here I promise, just need to figure out how."
Despite what had happened she had won on one front; she could cast the goddess from her head with a little time, and that was going to stay that way. So, at least for now, her powers were superior to that of the god, and said like that, it instilled a grim confidence in the hybrids brain.
With renewed urgency, Cherry rummaged her memory convincing herself that she had overseen something important, something useful, that she was not doing this because she had nothing better to do. So, for the hundredth time, she replayed the assaults of all the victims in her mind. Though, yet again, she made the same conclusion: the symptoms appeared just like that, with no apparent reason but guilt. What fucking useful information.
Her gaze fell on Sam's unconscious form again, and she begun passing a shaking hand in his matted hair to swallow down the urge to break her fist against the wall out of frustration. Sam… for him the symptoms appeared only after the blue thing had touched him, and in fact, except for that, it hadn't done anything to him. This had to be the key… this had to be connected somehow, to mean something! But what! Why couldn't she work this out for god's sa— Then an insane theory, an idea that had as much sense as the concept of flat earth, blossomed in her head.
The monster at the bridge was exactly what they had expected to see, and even if it had been more strategic to attack Dean who had been alone, it still went for Sam. Now ghosts were angry and hot-headed, but not that angry and hot-headed. So maybe… maybe the thing holding them captive could take different forms and… hadn't Dean said Janel's little black monsters had appeared after a certain encounter with a girl on the bridge? And honestly, everyone knew everyone here, such were the advantage of living in the arse end of nowhere. If Dean hadn't just forgotten the name of said girl Janel had mentioned, the lady being just another regular woman would be an extremely low blow from whatever ruled this world.
Although she had told herself she wouldn't let her hopes grow big, that was exactly what was happening, and she found herself yet again diving in remembrances that weren't hers. When blood yet again ran down her chin, she was struck with manic joy, a feral smile painted on her normally soft features. All the victims presented the symptoms after a certain encounter with a female stranger, who, of course, conveniently never reappeared again.
For whatever reason the deity hadn't yet touched her, but at least she now knew that it would have to come to that at one point. That's when she could make a move, that's where she could use her gift and get them out. Now the question was how to do that… As to salute Cherry's little victory Sam's eyes cracked open, even if it was but half-mast "I found it Sammy," she softly murmured as she swiped blood form her face, looking at his glassy green orbs, not knowing if he could comprehend her or not. "We're getting there."
oOo
The female human's resistance was seriously getting on her godly nerves. Three days of trying to get in it had been, Three. Whole. Bloody. Days! And she had been thinking that she had retrieved all her strength due to Sam— yeah right. The goddess scoffed bitterly, disgust written all over her face. Even if she had made some progress—she could stay longer and longer in the corridor, even had managed to pry open a few doors— the truth that it would still need her to touch that presumptuous little human finally dawned on her. Of course she could just kill the female, she was an unnecessary mouth to feed, but it had become personal. The deity's pride roared to squish all that unholy arrogance from that girl's thoughts until the last droplets of defiance would spill from her body with the nervous sweat outbreak her sight would provoke. For this occasion, she would learn what the true powers of the goddess wielding the two blades of justice and vengeance was. There would be no exception to Praxidike's judgment, and certainly not for a petulant human.
oOo
Beating, waking up, water, eventually food, sleep, and another round. That had been his routine over the days? Hours? minutes..? How much time had passed since… since what? What happened? Hands were suddenly on him and he stiffened before realizing. Those were the good hands. Those never hurt, they gave him water and bread, they even offered comfort from time to time… He cursed them for taking care of him, cursed them for showing affection for him of all people, and at the same time couldn't help but yearn for them with every fiber of his being as he flirted with consciousness. They meant safety, and reassurance that Dean wouldn't come back. Somewhere in the back of his mind it had registered that something was wrong, that the voice and kicks breaking him apart because of his own damned power carving couldn't be his big brother's, but he didn't seem to be able to connect the dots. What he was aware of was that the good hands were usually followed by other body parts. The hands would gently lay his head on tights somewhere he could feel the steady rise and fall of an abdomen, which meant he wasn't alone, and he couldn't shrug the selfish thought away that he preferred it that way, even if it meant facing yellow eyes at the end of the day.
But right now, he was on the cold hard floor, no bad or good hands, no one at all. He forced his eyes open and found out that, even if it was way more blurry than usual, it was far from catastrophic. He flopped his head to the side, and as expected he saw Cherry. What he didn't expect was that she was on her knees, trembling ever so slightly, and head in between hands of a nearly terrifyingly beautiful woman.
He reacted on instinct and immediately tried to sit up and walk towards the two women, but he didn't even make it past the first stage of his plan. The simple act of using the muscles in his midsection made him connect with the floor in the most brutal of ways, leaving him withering, clutching his stomach and at the same time trying to not put any additional pressure on it. He lay there for a moment, shortening his breath a maximum as freshly flared up agony ripped in his chest with every intake.
The woman squirmed under his grasp as efficiently as her weakened body let her, begging him to stop for the sake of her husband that waited at her home as her blood flowed out of her body into the jerry can.
Sam was ripped out of his memory as the good hands crudely yanked him up, intensifying the ache at an almost intolerable level making his knees buckle instantly and a harsh cry erupt from his throat.
oOo
"Please! Work with me!" Cherry lashed out in frustration; desire to escape the place clouding her sense of reality. She readjusted her grip and once again hauled Sam to his feet. This time he seemed to be able to stand, albeit on shaky legs. Even though Cherry supported most of his weight, she was grateful for it.
They really had no time to lose. They probably had something like fifteen minutes, which was the duration of all the carefully selected memories Cherry had implanted in the goddess' brain. And when she found out, Cherry really didn't want to be there; the deity had been far stronger than usual, and she didn't think that she could take a second assault like that.
Cherry walked faster towards what according to the stolen memory was the main entrance door, practically dragging Sam with her as he couldn't keep pace with the ankle Dean had broken.
She didn't spare a look or a thought to the fact that you couldn't see the structure from the outside; she had to get as far away as humanly possible from this place.
"Cherry ?" Ah, so he knew she was, well… who she was. "Won't make it." Sam breathed out, and as if on cue, his legs decided to take a vacation here and then, sending the party to the ground.
Critical hit, nicely played karma.
Sam was out cold, the jolt too much to take in his mangled state. Cherry on the other hand recovered quickly, but was now desperately trying to shake Sam into consciousness again, despair threatening to take over. She couldn't carry this frigging giant, she couldn't make him wake up, she had to get away at all cost. We have to get away at all cost.
She forced her anguish to translate into something else, something way more useful: pure bad faith based obstinacy.
No stretcher, no rope, time to get creative. She shook her jacket off, tying the two sleeves around Sam's upper body just under his armpits, and started dragging him forward, searching for the nearest road with the Goddess's memory as map.
oOo
Washington Street, north. Olive tree stake, coated in victim's blood, read the message. Dean didn't believe it. After three whole days of searching in every place around here, interrogating, calling, Cherry just texted her where to pick her up and kill the thing? Despite the fact that he had made sure her phone would stick in her pocket and stay if not dry, at least usable, trap was the first thing his mind jumped to. On the other hand did he really have a choice? What if Sam was there? The knot forming in his stomach made the decision for him.
oOo
Cherry was on the verge of a mental breakdown. One broken ankle, swollen so profusely it seemed the skin might snap at any moment, the re-opened slash decorating his abdomen, three wounded ribs of which one broken, and bruising all over his upper body making it look like deep purple and tarnished yellow was a natural skin tone. It was a miracle Sam had even walked at all. He was scarcely breathing and his face was deformed by a rictus betraying every aspect of what he felt. His eyelids were cracked open but judging by the glassiness of his gaze he wasn't able to see anything. Cherry was so focused on listening to Sam's wheezes that if the impala had been coming she would have heard it from miles away. But of course that wasn't what she heard, what she heard were heavy footsteps and a low growl. What she heard was Sam's punishment having found them. The hybrid pressed her fingers hard against Sam's temples and plunged into his mind, with only one thought.
oOo
Cherry opened her eyes to reveal a dining room lit only by the street lights filtering through half shattered windows, the only sound being a shower running somewhere. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding her she saw a fine powder on the table and couldn't suppress her curiosity to pass a hand through. The substance was ashen black, and for a moment she was afraid that Sam's "demons" were more literal than she had anticipated. She took in the scent of it and couldn't help a sigh of relief: that wasn't sulfur, it was ash. Wait, ash? Why would there be ash on a kitchen table? She gingerly looked around the room and walked to the nearest wall, letting her fingers skim on the surface of it before exanimating them once more, same result.
So every square inch of this house was covered in ash? Fantastic, we had, a shower working, a burned house— she looked to the kitchen table and groaned— plus a miraculously intact brown bowl with cookies and a little paper. His very his perception of memory was affiliated with the destruction he caused around him, God…this didn't favor what she wanted to do at all.
Despite Cherry's reluctance her feet dragged her towards the chamber where Sam's apple pie life had been abruptly brought to an end, it was her best guess on where to find froze just before her feet hovered over the doorstep.
The chamber, it was filled—more than filled, it was like you couldn't possibly fit anything more—with the spirits of the dead, and they were loud, so really loud with their slight distorted voices Cherry didn't comprehend how she couldn't have heard them. Some were screaming, some were begging, some were making threats, and they all were facing the same way, paying no attention whatsoever to Cherry who just looked in fear at this abhorrent convention. And if that wasn't proof enough that Sam was in that room… Cherry inhaled sharply, blocking her breath and taking a step forward, going through a few ghosts, immediately flashing a memory before her eyes. The host Meg had been using was bleeding out on the ground using her dying breath to tell the brothers what they wanted to know. Another step. A reporter talked about the police center that had exploded; despite all their efforts Lillith had finally taken those lives who had aided the Winchesters. Now nearly running, Cherry still went forward, blocking the soul destroying memories as best as she could, dissociating as much as possible, focused on one task: find Sam.
And she did. The once so stubborn and so sure of himself Sam Winchester was huddled quiet literarily into a corner of his mind, looking straight ahead, tears drawing patterns on his rosy cheeks as he let them fall in silence. Honestly, Cherry didn't know if she preferred him screaming or lethargic. The boy was protected by the finest strand of salt Cherry had ever seen, sense of logic telling her that if she breathed too hard it meant the end of the line in both senses.
She crouched just in front of him and whispered his name in the most soft of ways, "Sam?" It was one sliver of compassion, just one drop in the ocean of curses, but he heard it. "Sam, I can help, I just need you to concentrate on me." Sam ought to respond but the only thing his vocal chords could manage was a half-constricted moan. "Can you do that for me?"
Still not able to produce any coherent word, he jerkily nodded his head.
Out of habit Cherry sought out physical contact, taking Sam's way too large hands in hers, redirecting the aim of her gift.
"You are way too tragic for your own good Winchester, but after all that seems to run in the family." Sam's eyes were glued to Cherry's and didn't notice the memories she bottled up for him, leaving holes in the army of ghosts infecting the room. "One idiot who never thinks of the lives he saved." The holes were now filled again, but with what seemed like people made of flesh and bone with eyes reflecting gratitude. "Heart too arrogant to see that you had no means to fight what would become." The mass of angry spirits grew smaller by the second as Cherry mustered all the figures Sam held himself from hurting even though he had nothing to do with it, people he couldn't have shoved from harm's way however hard he had tried. "Don't let their survival or passing be for nothing. The world needs saving more than ever Sam, and you're the only one who can lure the devil back to the pit." The shower had stopped, replaced by Cherry's crystal clear voice, the venomous loathing reduced to an omnipresent buzz in the background, too muffled to distinguishing the words. "Don't let them drown you Sam: Dean, Bobby, and every other stupid person on this planet needs you. And if that's not enough, see it as a debt: you've been the start, now it's time for you to ring the end." Cherry dragged Sam up effortlessly, the younger Winchester crashing into her as he offered no resistance whatsoever, and despite her knowing that it would only last a few moments before his demons would resurface, she smiled. "Let's make your safe zone bigger."
oOo
Christopher and Lewis had been friends since childhood and were bonded by the same burning passion: putting bullets into animals flesh to make a good barbecue accompanied by a few beer bottles. More importantly than food, it took Christopher's mind away from lingering on Fidel's abrupt end… and his plans for killing the one the rumors had driven him to believe responsible.
The hunt hadn't fared well from the beginning. There had been as much animals in the traps as in the wild, which was exactly none. So they had decided to go further into the woods because a barbecue without meat is like summer without ice cream: not. Conceivable.
Despite their efforts and skills the hunt remained thin and the two friends begun arguing over the question whether or not a vegetarian meal was real food. Their growing quarrel was nevertheless rapidly truncated by Lewis's hand stopping his friend dead in his tracks.
"D'ya see that?" he asked excitedly crouching on the forest floor looking at the dried spats of blood.
"Our luck must finally have turned," Christopher said with one of those smiles that had become rarer and rarer.
The track was easy enough to follow, yet there were no indications on what it might have been for animal, the layer of leaves too thick to allow any imprints. What could be said despite this was that it was definitely a big boy, a very, very big boy.
"We're headin' to the road… Why would it go to the road?" Lewis mumbled to himself
"If I were injured like that I wouldn't be thinkin' either ya kn—"
But he was cut short, what was lying on the road was no beast. There, stretched on the tarmac, bleeding and completely bashed, laid one of the strangers that had been asking around about the murders going on recently. Hovering over him was that kid that called herself Cherry, the one Lewis had so stubbornly refused to think responsible of the homicides despite all the rumors.
She was looking at them blinking rapidly, swaying a little and Lewis could have sworn he had seen her eyes hesitating between green and yellow. All three people stood there unwavering, the reality of the situation sluggishly settling in their brains.
And then Cherry uttered out possibly the worst and most predictable sentence ever "This is not what it looks li—"
Christopher's 257 Roberts's bullet would have made an instant kill if not for Lewis.
"WHAT THE FUCKING HELL CHRISTOPHER! YOU CAN'T JUST SHOOT PEOPLE LIKE THAT!"
Christopher thrust his friend away without a word, sending him hit the ground hard, not caring for the consequences; that bitch had already killed enough.
Cherry clenched her eyes shut as she heard the metallic click of the firearm being cocked. This was it then, this would be her first and last case and she couldn't help but wonder, what would my parents say? Probably to run, to at least try and save her life, but she knew that in the instant she would move it would be done for, and on top of that she couldn't let Sammy bleed out on the floor like this. So if they were no other exits but a date with a reaper, at least she would face the one ripping her from the living's world.
But what happened was not what she expected. Instead of being met with a blissful nothing, a piercing pain erupted from her shoulder, soon followed by a cry of her own, her clawed hand spasmodically reaching for her injury. She scrambled back as best as she could: Christopher had changed his mind, and maybe she wasn't afraid of death, but pain was another deal.
"The first one was for Mrs. Gordon and the family you scarred," he hissed tone stripped of all emotion as he let Cherry distance him.
Lewis couldn't move, couldn't think, his childhood friend—the one he had shared everything with, the one that had stand up for him when he couldn't— was now pointing a gun barrel at a girl no older than twenty-six. He was aiming to hurt; he was aiming to give that kid an as slow death as possible, absolute pleasure glinting in his eyes as he watched the young woman crawling away in terror. The trigger came in action a third time, lodging a bullet into the girl's thigh, twisting her whimpers into a full on wail imbued by heart wrenching pain and the sense of stinging injustice, making her escape attempt more frantic.
Voice shaking with all-consuming fury, braving Cherry's cries, Christopher yelled "This one s'for that teen that never got to grow up!"
All that made Christopher was gone. The jovial beer-drinking caring lad had been replaced by a cold-hearted, revenge-thirsty murderer blinded by his own suffering, and for the first time in his life, Lewis experienced what true fear was. He realized too late that all the times when Chris had ranted about what he would do if he laid a finger on a sliver of evidence that "that foreign girl" was the killer were no idle talk.
"And this one…" Christopher raised his weapon at the crawling girl for the last time, voice but a twisted whisper "Is for a good guy you're soon goin' to wish you had never laid a finger on."
The now characteristic sound of a gunshot echoed through the air. The bullet soared in a perfect line towards its moving target, and when it finally met flesh it was to deliver the sweet kiss of death.