Author's Note: Sorry about the hiatus. Working full time, climbing full time- life got in the way. Hopefully the next one comes out quicker. I have also decided to just chart my own course with the story- no more trying to follow cannon. Too much hassle, I can't keep up. Let me know what you think!
I also changed the rating to M for language and adult things
Playlist for the Chapter: Raise Hell by Dorothy, Missile by Dorothy, I put a spell on you by Nina Simone, Tell me True by Sarah Jarosz, Run Away by Sarah Jarosz
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Lisa Becomes the Hunted
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Dean Winchester. For some reason it had always been Dean Winchester. She was like a moth to his flame, he'd drawn her in at a concert so many years ago with his passion and his anchor-less wildness and she had been powerless to escape ever since. Only now she could recognize it, admit it to herself.
For the first time when Lisa's phone pinged quietly that night, she didn't roll over and grab it for 2AM flirt texting with Dean. She couldn't, not now that she had her memories. Everything that she had forgotten now weighed on her in the silent dark: Dean crashing into her life, weaving himself into their little family and becoming a lifeline she couldn't live without, then leaving violently the same way he had come in. She shook silently, but she would not cry. He did not know who she was- that Alice was the woman whom he had left in a hospital room, alone and defenseless without her memories. For a while she had entertained the idea of tearing down to whatever shitball motel he and his brother were at, kicking in the door, and punching him in the face, but that would not solve anything. Dean would feel guilty for what had happened to Ben, and to Abby, the daughter he didn't know he had, and he would drop everything to help her.
She was suddenly fiercely glad that he didn't know who she was.
If Dean knew who she was, she'd get sucked in to his orbit again. Lisa couldn't let that happen. He would try to keep her safe, keep her out of rescuing her son. And Dean had more important things to do, like saving the world. So Lisa had dinner with her new family the next day, and tried not to look like anything was wrong, and Sarah and Kate pretended not to notice that something was indeed very wrong.
Finally, at seven in the morning when the sun was just beginning to crest over the mountains and the first birds had started to call, Lisa rolled out of bed. Sleep was a lost call. She didn't bother to change out of her yoga pants, hoodie, and t-shirt. She slipped on her leather jacket, tied back her short shaggy hair with a scarf, and heaved on her motorcycle boots. Lisa was fairly certain Kate could hear her sneaking out with her overly sensitive Werewolf ears, but she didn't care.
Outside the air was cold, and her breath plumed white in front of her face. The leaves were starting to turn with the oncoming autumn, and Lisa breathed deep the cold fresh air. Standing on the stoop, eyes closed, breathing deep and listening to her heartbeat, Lisa wondered at what point she had lost herself. Dean was a lot of things, but the wreck of her life wasn't his fault. She had allowed it to happen; that was all on her.
Lisa put her bike into neutral and rolled it down the path, not starting it until she was well out of human earshot that the Harley wouldn't wake anyone up.
.x.
Dean looked at the dark phone screen. It did not light up again for an answering text from Alice. For almost a year now they had been texting, originally beginning with her asking advice, now it was just blatant mutual flirting from both ends. His heart sank in disappointment. He wanted to thank her for saving him and Sammy's asses, hell; he just wanted to see her. He was confused as to why she'd lit out so quickly. Dean set his phone back on the nightstand and stared up at the ceiling, lumpy pillow doing jack all to put him to sleep mode.
What to do about Alice? Should he just come out and say that he wanted her, wanted to see if there could be more between them than just sassy texts and the promise of a beer? Alice represented something that Dean hadn't allowed himself to feel since Lisa and Ben: attachment. It felt like a moderately safe attachment too, Alice proved over and over again that she could take care of herself. She wouldn't leave him or fall to the dark. Death was always a possibility. But even then, Dean found himself wanting to protect her, wanting throw caution to the wind and get to know her.
He glanced at his phone again and then gritted his teeth. He was not going to be the one to be needy, no matter how bad he wanted to talk to her. He suppressed a sigh. It was going to be a long night.
.x.
Lisa walked into REI an hour later after rolling into town, a paper cup of steaming diner coffee in one hand. She bought a blue yoga mat with a grey mandala blooming from its center, along with a mat sling made from woven reeds and recycled scrap fabric. The mat reminded her of the mat she'd had in college: a friend had painted her old mat for her. Lisa had used it until Ben came along and then after Dean had come into her life, not at all. What had even happened to that mat? It was probably left in their old house when they moved to Battle Creek.
Lisa ended up in a wooded park with morning sunlight dappling the sparse grass. A pond rippled quietly nearby, and the park was empty save for a few people walking their dogs and an old man feeding the rather demanding mallards in the pond. She pulled off her boots and socks, and switched off her phone, stuffing her phone and keys and wallet deep into one of her boots.
Barefoot, she came onto the mat, sinking cross-legged onto the center. Lisa sat there for nearly an hour, eyes closed, straight backed, breathing deeply and listening to the sounds of the park as it came to life around her. She took her time letting her spine straighten. Her limbs loosened as she listened to her breath and the quiet steady pound of her heart. Lisa raised her arms to the sky, leaned to the side, and then slid fluidly into Downward Dog. There was an immediate burn in the backs of her legs as her heels came to the mat and her ass pointed at the sky and she felt a brief moment of irritation. This didn't used to hurt. Lisa concentrated on steady deep breathing, and worked out the stiffness, ignoring the slight fire that shot up her calves and hamstrings. When the fire had been reduced to a dull throb and Lisa's heels stayed on the mat, she slid forward seamlessly into Child's Pose, working her shoulders and inhaling the sharp new mat scent. A few breaths, then back to Downward Dog. Breath. Down to the mat and into Cobra. Plank. Runner's Lunges. Sun Salutations.
Lisa went through poses in no particular order, hitting her favorites and the ones she was fairly certain that she could still do: Warrior One and Two, Tree, Extended Side Angle, Eagle, One Legged King Pidgeon, and finally into Astavakrasana: Eight Angled Pose when she was figured she was as warmed up as she would get. That one hurt a lot. Her shoulders and arms and gut burned, but Lisa made herself hold it and feel old muscles complain at being made to work again. Lisa lowered and rolled into corpse pose finally allowing herself to go completely still.
Yoga felt good.
She was still aware of the imminent problems she faced and needed to figure out. Her son was missing, her daughter was in danger, Castiel was in the wind, a Demon Lord was on her ass, and Dean Winchester had broken her heart and her mind. All of that was still a problem and still royally sucked, but now it felt distant in a way. If she really thought about it, having her memories back made her stronger. No more unknown territory. She wasn't going to constantly be looking over her shoulder and worrying about a shadow man that may be after her. Dean thought she was safe in Battle Creek, and even if she did slip up and he found her, Dean wouldn't hurt her. If anything he'd move Heaven and Hell to get Ben back.
He would just leave her behind and destroy himself to do it. Lisa couldn't let that happen. No matter mad she was and no matter what she told herself, she still loved Dean with every fiber of her raw and bruised heart. He'd hurt it, he'd broken it, he'd disappointed it, but Lisa couldn't let him go. She would be damned before she let take on one of her burdens and kill himself trying to fix things. She wanted Ben back, more than anything, but she wasn't willing to kill anyone else to do it.
Her phone rang, shaking herself from her meditative trance. Lisa rolled over and dug it out, glancing at the screen. It was one of Ginger's numbers.
"This is Alice."
"Alice, hey, I think we got a problem." Ginger's normally melodious southern drawl had an undertone of irritation and fear to it.
Lisa frowned, pinned the phone between her neck and shoulder, and began yanking on her boots. "Tell me."
"I can't raise a single hunter in the state of New Mexico."
"What?" Lisa nearly dropped the phone. Hunters were cagey and unpredictable, but for an entire state's population to not answer a phone once and a while? That wasn't good.
Ginger blew out a long breath that crackled in Lisa's burner phone's small speaker. "So Garth's been MIA for a while now right? Nearly six months. Nothin' new there. Well we got a road ghost off of route 60. Disappearances and car crashes been in the news now. Easy peasy right? Standard haunting. Cept' no one answers their phones. I didn't think much of it. We ain't heard from Garth for a while. Hawkins goes on benders and forgets where he puts stuff like his phone and keys now and then. Jerry doesn't know his ass from a tea kettle if he finds the money for coke. I gave it a couple weeks. Still no answer. Figured I'd call LeMarr, he usually covers a little farther west, Cali mostly, but he's a good Hunter and he answers his damn voicemail. But LeMarr didn't pick up neither. I have called fifteen hunters in that area of the US and only one picked up. She was scared, moving her territory outta town. Said she'd been to a buddy's house when he didn't pick up and the place was ransacked."
Lisa rolled up her mat, chewing her lip. "Did you at least try to call Garth?"
"Girl, that man hasn't picked up a phone in months. You are the only one that is still trying."
"I'm going to have to do something about that," Lisa muttered, yanking her keys out of her boots and unrolling her socks. "I don't care what hole he is hiding, I am going to haul his ass out kicking and screaming. We all got issues, but I got no time for bullshit."
"Good luck kid," Ginger replied. "Garth is a weird little noodle, but he's stubborn as a mule."
"We'll see about that." Lisa put Ginger on speaker opened google and began looking at road maps. "I'll handle the road ghost and see what's up with our people."
"It'll be a job for sure. Whatever can take out LeMarr and 15 other top notch hunters should be handled with caution. And I got nothing for ya in the way of information so you'll be goin' in blind."
Lisa shoved her feet into her boots. "Well I just finished yoga, and have had coffee. I am all set to kill something."
Ginger barked a harsh throaty laugh in response, and hung up.
.x.
Lisa stopped by a farmer's market to get breakfast, trying to come up with a plan and what to do. She figured with all the weirdness she owed her little Hunter family an apology. Then she swung by Father O'Bannon's church. It was quiet that early in the morning. She could hear the church staff clattering around somewhere deep in the building as they went about their duties, but for the most part it was quiet. O'Bannon should be the only one in the main building.
Her motorcycle boots were heavy in the silence of the church, echoing off of the vaulted walls like gunshots. Lisa came to the alter and knelt, but she did not bow her head. Instead she stared up at the statue of Christ hung on the cross behind the alter. The effigy's face was tranquil, unlike most of the images of Christ Lisa had seen over the course of her life. She found herself searching the still wooden face for some meaning. As the echo of her footsteps died away, silence surged into the space they'd left. Lisa wasn't certain why she didn't call O'Bannon to let him know that she was there, but she stayed on her knees a long time. It struck her then- if the Devil was down in Georgia, where was his counterpart? There was all this talk of angels and demons. Where was God?
The words came small and quiet from a battered part of her soul. "Please- God- I know I haven't believed, but..I don't know what else to do. Please help me find my son."
The church was quiet, and after a moment Lisa's shoulders drooped. "Of course it couldn't be that easy," she muttered.
O'Bannon's warm hand descended onto her shoulder, about nearly making her jump out of her skin. "It never is," he murmured. "My apologies, lass." O'Bannon looked guilty when she let out a surprised yelp. "I wanted to give you your space."
Lisa blew out a breath of frustrated air and climbed to her feet, steadfastly ignoring the sound of her knees popping. God, she was getting old. "Sorry Preacher, not just here to pray. I got a favor to ask."
"Name it," O'Bannon replied promptly. He had never forgotten the debt he owed the strange, scarred, tattooed ghost woman who had come out of nowhere and saved his life from a nightmare monster. He had never explicitly told Lisa Braeden that he would do anything for her, but he supposed she knew that already without it having to be said.
"I have to head out of town, it's a Road Ghost, but the situation's weird. People- Hunters- are either running or just plain gone. I have to save my people, or I make a pretty lousy Second in Command. I have a bag of stuff for Sarah and Kate, I haven't been exactly transparently lately and I owe them a huge apology, but I have to do this on my own." Lisa told him. She was pulling her motorcycle gloves on and beginning to head for the doors.
O'Bannon followed her, hands clasped behind his back, and looking worried. "You know they aren't gonna be blammin' ya for the monsters in your closet, now are you? Why're you runnin' away? They'll understand! You owe them better than that."
O'Bannon's accent became stronger when he was frustrated or scared, and his brogue was out in full force. Lisa snorted. "It's a little bit avoiding the problem, but a large part is back up. I am not sure of what is going on but if something is disappearing Hunters than we can't throw all of our resources at it. I wrote down exactly what Ginger told me and I need you to take it to Sarah and Kate. I'll continue to keep them updated as best I can, but they need to wait in the wings. Abbigail needs to be guarded and there needs to be a backup solution to the Hunter disappearances if I am killed," she replied pragmatically.
The priest sighed and nodded. They reached Lisa's Harley and she pulled a notepad that had seen better days out of her saddlebag. O'Bannon did not comment on the dirt and bloodstains that gummed up part of the page but took it without a word, tucking it into his cassock. They stood there for a moment, the wind blowing down the lonely street. Then O'Bannon shocked her by pulling her into a hug.
"If this is goodbye," he said thickly," then I want to be thankin' ye for all you've done for me and mine. I'll take good care of your family."
She nodded mutely, unable to form a proper response. For some reason his lack of reproach for her rashness made her feel guiltier than if he had shouted at her.
Lisa hugged him back firmly. O'Bannon was on the list of the best things that had ever happened to her since she'd lost her old life so long ago. The priest was a meld of Father Figure, Mother Figure, and Councilor all wrapped up into one untidy black clad package. He would take care of Kate and Sarah, there was no fear of that.
She squeezed him hard, then she let go, straddled her bike, and did not look back.
.x.
Dean looked at his phone, unsurprised to see it dark. It was more of a habit now than anything to check it. It had been over a month now, and Alice had neither called him or texted. He and Sam had done a few jobs and things were ramping up with Crowley. Dean hadn't yet discussed with Sam putting Abbadon back together- but if they wanted to try to properly exorcise someone- truly save them, then she was their best bet. There wasn't exactly a Supernatural Supermarket where you could purchase a demon for causal dismemberment and resurrection.
Now there was a thought- perhaps when he retired he could open the Hunter's Whole Foods and Exorcism Super Store.
After a minute of glowering at the tiny screen, he tossed his cell phone onto a table. Dean Winchester didn't beg. Not unless there was pie, and Alice had definitely not reached pie status, no matter how cool she was with her mask and her sword.
With some difficulty, he put her out of his head. "Hey Sammie!" he hollered, tromping into the Men of Letters war room that had rapidly become his and Sam's living room, "Wanna play Exploding Kittens?"
Sam put down his book and rubbed at his gaunt face, and pretended that everything was normal- like he didn't have hollowed eyes and that his brother didn't see how sick he was. That the trials weren't eating him alive. If Dean wanted to play his dumb cat game and pretend that everything was peachy: that Castiel wasn't missing, Garth wasn't talking, and that Alice wasn't texting, then he would be what his brother needed him to be. Fine and normal.
.x.
O'Bannon cringed when the mug of tea he'd just handed Sarah shattered against the far wall.
"Who the hell does she think she is?" Sarah snarled, looking for something else to throw. "Batman? This is not some go it alone lone ranger shit! Gah!"
The priest wondered if perhaps he could have told Sarah and Kate of Lisa's decision in a different manner, but decided against it. They had a right to be angry and hurt. O'Bannon believed that the two women would have followed Lisa into Hell if she had asked them to. No matter her good intentions, she had delivered a heavy blow to the team by ghosting on them.
"And we can't follow," Kate said from her position on the couch, "Can we?" The girl was much calmer than Sarah, but her eyes were a cold yellow.
Reluctantly O'Bannon shook his head. Lisa had been adamant that no one follow her and there wasn't much they could do about it. All three of them were silent for a long moment. The priest wasn't sure what he should do or say- council was always a part of the Holy Profession, but he was drawing a blank. What do you say to someone who's loved one was hell bent on self-destruction, even if they didn't admit it? Lisa was losing sight of the larger picture and falling. Her memory coming back, the loss of her children, and the betrayal of her lover was starting to become too much for her to handle alone even if she didn't say it out loud.
Sarah blew out a breath, breaking the silence. "I'm sorry I broke your mug," she said quietly. "I was upset and I shouldn't have thrown it. I'm sorry."
O'Bannon gave her shoulder a squeeze, and then bustled into the kitchen to prepare more tea. "Tis alright, lass. Think nothing of it."
"Hopefully she gets it out of her system," Kate said, glancing upstairs to where Abby was in Lisa's room, sleeping. "She's not alone, even if she can't see it right now."
"Preaching to the choir," Sarah muttered. She reached up to twist the thin silver chain around her neck.
Kate saw her messing with it and chewed her lip. "Did you tell Lisa-"
"No." Sarah interrupted firmly. She pulled the ring out from where it dangled under her shirt. The slim gold band swung in a lazy circle and the tiny diamond winked in the afternoon light. Lisa had no idea that Ian had asked Sarah to marry him, and Sarah wasn't sure how to tell her. No time had been good enough. Sarah had fully intended to follow Lisa on her crusade, but then Ian had come along. He was smart, funny, and he truly saw her as a person. Somehow it felt like a betrayal to tell Lisa that she was considering leaving Hunting, that she was going to marry a man they'd met only months ago. Lisa had suffered so much and Sarah didn't want to be the one to tell her she would be alone again. Ian didn't know anything about what lurked in the dark, and Sarah didn't think it would be fair to drag him into it. If she married Ian she would have to stop Hunting, leave Lisa. It would break her.
"Quit it," Kate said.
Sarah looked up, train of thought derailed. "What are you talking about?"
Kate smiled and Sarah could see the girl was trying to put on a brave face. Kate was outwardly happy for her, but she had to see this as her new family breaking apart. "Lisa is going to be happy for you. You need to quit freaking out about what she'll say. Lisa's going through a lot, but she is not going to begrudge you a happy ending. She's not that kind of friend," Kate said simply. " This is a mess, but Lisa is a good person. Only an asshole would be mad at someone for a happy ending."
"I love him," Sarah whispered helplessly. "I just hope Lisa gets this out of her system. I want her to be a part of this. I hate keeping things from her."
"Then she will, that is all that matters," O'Bannon said firmly. "Now lucky you, I know a thing or two about weddings! Have you picked your colors?"
Sarah and Kate laughed, and the heavy air of the unknown was lifted.
.x.
A few days later Lisa rolled into Red River, New Mexico. The tiny mountainous town was home to a Hunter named Renaldo Perez, one name out of the many Hunters missing that Ginger had given Lisa. Rey was gone, but maybe he'd left a clue. He owned a cabin deep in the woods, and it took a lot of back tracking to find it, but finally Lisa was standing in the missing Hunter's driveway, looking at a dark little cabin littered with yellow crime scene tape. It looked straight out of a horror movie where coed college kids run around the woods in their underwear being chased by a maniac with a power tool.
Here there be monsters.
Heaving a slow breath, she unbuckled her sword from her motorcycle and slid the harness on, shrugging it into place. The weight of her sword instantly added a sense of comfort that Lisa almost forgot she missed. The woods were quiet; no sound but the wind and insects, but the hair on the back of her neck was raised. Every instinct she had told her she was being watched, had been watched since she parked in his driveway and shut the bike off.
Lisa forced herself to walk steadily forward towards the dark cabin, rolling her neck to loosen the stiffness from the long drive. This was what she wanted after all- what better quicker way to find out what was hunting Hunters than to offer herself up as bait? Some tiny rational voice at the back of her mind was screaming at her, that this was an incredibly stupid thing to do, but Lisa found she didn't care.
She pushed open the door to the cabin and it groaned reluctantly on broken hinges. The cabin's single room was dark and the floor was littered with broken garbage. Pulling a small flashlight from her coat, she bounced the bright beam around the room. There were signs of a struggle but no signs of harm. No blood, nothing to indicate Perez was dead. He had put up a fight but whatever had taken him had left no trace of the man behind.
Her boots crunched broken glass and Lisa's heart began to pound. There was no way she was going to come out of this without a fight. She doubted the Supernatural WhateverItWas would let her get back to her bike alive now that she was in the house. The sense of being watched grew stronger and she slowly raised her hand to grasp the hilt of the sword at her back. As her fingers closed around the hilt, the door behind her creaked and something skittered on the roof.
In seconds the sword cleared its leather sheath. The blade gleamed dully in the dim light and the hilt warmed in her hand. She didn't release a breath, still afraid, but the sword gleaming in front her was a talisman that cleaved the dark. Mentally, Lisa quietly went through her small armory. She had her 9MM rubbing up against the small of her back, her kukri blades in her boots, a packet of salt that had been blessed by Father O'Bannon in her coat pocket, and a vial of holy water around her neck. It wasn't much, so she was going to have to use her resources wisely.
The air had become oddly humid, and there was a faint odor of sick skin and rot. Lisa nearly choked, and made herself breath through her mouth even though she could also taste the foul odor on her tongue.
She backed up against the far wall so she could keep eyes on the room, the loft, and the door, and forced herself to calm and slow her breathing. The smell and sounds were making her stupid, and she was acting like a rookie Hunter. The skittering noise came again, and she had a brief moment to notice that it wasn't faint anymore but coming straight at her.
Lisa gritted her teeth and bettered her stance. It was game time. Finally she would get a look at whatever it was and kill this thing.
.x.
LeMarr settled into his cage, muscles aching. He no longer noticed the blood caked straw and mud, but still took care to stay well away from the Shapeshifter chained up across from him. It never spoke, but every now and then it turned its hungry lamp like eyes on him instead of their captors. At least they let him have his weapons, and he again thanked whatever lucky stars he had that he'd grabbed his Hunting bag before he was taken. It was the only way he had survived this long. Next to him, Jerry moaned quietly in his sleep. LeMarr studied him, noting the man was still on his side where he wouldn't drown on his own vomit. Jerry was going through cocaine withdrawal- he'd been okay in their first fight, but now it was all LeMarr could do to keep them both alive while Jerry detoxed cold turkey. At least he wasn't seizing again. They were the only Hunters left in this nightmare place. The rest were dead. Now, they were the only humans in the place, surrounded on all sides by monsters.
The sick smell of musk and rot cut through the heavy odor of unwashed skin and vomit. LeMarr tensed, sliding his hand into his bag for his knife. He wouldn't use his gun, not yet. He only had three bullets left and he wanted to save them for the Ring. His eyes stayed on the door but he could hear the Shapeshifter quietly tensing muscles for an attack. The rusted metal grate at the end of the cavern slid open with a whine, and light fell on the hundreds of cages, illuminating the various creatures held captive.
He tensed, eyes following the slow shuddering progress of the Corrupted as it dragged its burden across the floor, leaving a trail of slime in its wake. It threw its limp captive into the cage directly across from LeMarr's, slamming the door. He winced. The Witch in the cage across from him was a huge dick. He'd almost take the Shapeshifter he was stuck with over her. The only other creature in that cage never spoke, or moved. Sometimes he wondered if it was dead.
The newcomer groaned and stirred, waking now that they were not longer under Corrupted's cloying influence. His jaw dropped in shock.
"Alice?"
.x.
The first thing Lisa noticed was the smell. It stuck in her nose- hot and rotten and cloying, and she nearly threw up. Her eyes shot open, and then it registered that someone had been calling her name. Lisa shot to her feet, cracked her head on the ceiling of a small cage, right before the chain around her ankle yanked her back on her ass.
"Mother fu-" she rubbed her head, a nice goose egg already forming under her short hair.
"You kiss your mother with that mouth, Hunter?" said a woman's voice, seductive and scornful.
"Shut up Ada."
Lisa stiffened in shock- that was LeMarr's voice. Her head whipped around, eyes straining in the dark. For the moment, she ignored the Witch woman in the cage with her. She was chained and not a threat. There was something else in the corner of their little cage, but it didn't move. It looked like a pile of rags. She would have thought it was just trash if there wasn't a skeletal hand poking out, nothing but brown bones and tarnished gold rings. Turning away, after watching it for movement for a solid minute, Lisa barely made out LeMarr in the dim light. She could see a body next to him that looked vaguely like Jerry. There was also a Shifter in the cage with them; Lisa could easily make out the glint of its mirror bright eyes. Beyond LeMarr's cage there was the dim outline of hundreds more stuffed with Supernatural nightmares. Just what the hell was going on?
"Alice!" LeMarr whisper yelled again, yanking her out of her thoughts.
"What is this place?" she asked, matching his whisper. She felt like an idiot for getting captured. On top of that, Sarah and Kate had no idea where she was or what had happened. She hadn't had a chance to check in.
"I don't know," he replied honestly. He sounded tired and afraid. "Jerry and I have been here for a while."
"Start from the beginning," Lisa said gently, forcing the helpless rage she was currently swimming in to leave her voice. It wasn't LeMarr's fault she was in this damn cage after all. It was her own.
"Jerry and I were together when we were taken," LeMarr explained. He leaned back against the bars of his cage. "I was buying an angel blade off of him. There were more Hunters here when we arrived, but they're dead."
"All of them?" she asked hoarsely.
In the dim light, she saw him nod. "Shit," she muttered. Her fault, her responsibility. With Garth gone, these deaths were on her head.
"Three little Hunters," sang the Witch softly, interrupting them. "playing for fun. They entered the red Ring and then they were done."
Lisa didn't say anything, but all of a sudden cold rage flooded her blood. The sudden blood thirst didn't show on her face, but she lunged at the Witch, pulling out her kukri at the same moment. The blade gleamed dull silver, arcing like a small crescent moon in the dim light. It would have been a killing blow, but it stopped inches from the Witch's head when Lisa's chain pulled her up short. In that same instant she was knocked back on her ass, she noticed human hair braided around the Witch's throat, bound together with clay charms inscribed in cuneiform. Her Sumerian was incredibly rusty- Sarah was the translator of the crew because of her antique career- but she recognized both the symbols for people and wards against evil. Whomever or whatever had bound them all and thrown them in cages, it had made sure the Hunters were just far enough away and that the Witch was harmless. It wanted them saved, for now.
"What is she talking about?" Lisa said, sitting back against the wall of the cage and sticking her kukri back into her boot. If she couldn't kill the bitch, she'd just ignore her.
"They take us out the cages but we're never awake when they do it," LeMarr replied, mirroring her posture when he curled up into his own corner. "There's a circle of black sand, about a half-acre in diameter, surrounded by pillars. Its stained with blood. They put us in the circle with something else. Witches, Wendigos, sometimes with shit I've never even seen before. And we fight."
"Who's they?" Lisa asked.
"Sumerian I think," LeMarr answered, confirming Lisa's suspicions. "A deity of some kind. Whatever it is hits too hard for a typical monster, and they have those Corrupted followers who worship it."
"Male or female," Lisa said, running through her mental lexicon. It was too dark to see her journal, but she knew the pages by heart.
"Male," LeMarr said, after thinking a moment. "I'm sure. I've heard it talk."
"Has it used any powers?" she asked, still thinking, "done any rituals during specific dates or times?"
"The battles take place at midnight between the hours of 12 and 1," LeMarr said thoughtfully. "I have never seen it use any magic or power. It's careful. It likes watching us but I get the feeling it is afraid of us. It holds itself apart, and never comes down to gloat. I am sorry I can't be more help!"
Lisa perked up despite the lack of information. Fear was good. It meant that control wasn't absolute, that there was a chink in the armor somewhere and she just had to find it. She laughed. "What's funny?" the Witch snapped, butting into the conversation again. The Witch obviously hated being left out and ignored.
"If there is fear," Lisa said softly, thinking, "then there is weakness. I just have to figure out what it is. And I'll use it."
For a moment, there was silence. Then the pile of bones and rags in the corner finally stirred and a voice that was the rattle of dust and endless ages cut through them like a knife.
You will use it, you say, the voice said softly, amused. It ran over Lisa's skin like a saw blade. What if the price is too high to pay? it asked conversationally.
Lisa gave the pile of rags and bones a long hard look, trying to figure out what they were. It was ancient and old with a faint accent that spoke of sand and heat under the edge of rage. Mesopotamian? Egyptian? Assyrian? She couldn't tell what it was in the disorienting dark. She was surrounded by monsters, most of which she didn't even have a name for anyway.
"I'll make that decision when I come to it," Lisa said icily. "I won't compromise my soul, but I am no good to anyone trapped in a goddamn supernatural MMA pissing match."
The pile of bones was silent for so long Lisa began to think that she had made it mad. Then it laughed, genuine laughter that was so out of place in the miserable dark that Lisa couldn't help but laugh too. For a monster, it had a nice laugh.
Well, said the bones, Then I will make you a bargain.
"NO." Lisa and LeMarr answered at the same time. They looked at each other in surprise. "No one makes bargains or deals with the dark," LeMarr said stubbornly, "Not without losing something they can't get back. I would rather die."
"I feel the same way," Lisa said softly. Somehow she knew that if she sold her soul to save Ben, it would only be a short term fix. Ben wouldn't rest until he had saved her, and she couldn't take the risk that her son wouldn't give something that he couldn't get back. It would be an endless spiral of self-sacrificing bullshit. And she couldn't make herself cheapen life by throwing it away.
The bones hummed thoughtfully. It has always been done this way, it said, almost to itself. Bargains, deals, and lost souls. Nothing is ever free.
"Mercy is," Lisa said firmly. "Kindness. Rules are made to be broken. I tell you what-"she was feeling a recklessness that was going straight to her head. She was about to do something stupid, something she had never done before. Whatever she was about to do with this creature, there was no going back. It wasn't a bargain, but it was a gesture. It would either bite her in the ass or it would pay off. Either way, it was a price that had a cost she was willing to pay. "I'll let you go. If I get out, you get out."
"Alice!" LeMarr said, horrified. She didn't need to hear the words to know what they meant. You don't know what the thing you are talking to is, what it would do if you let it out.
Apparently the bones had had the same idea. Pandora's box had untold horrors within, it said, amused. You don't know what I am, Hunter. I could be the Devil after all.
"Pandora's box also had hope," Lisa snapped, "If I play this stupid game in fear, I won't get anywhere. And you aren't the Devil. I have met his creatures and they are all dicks. I talked to them for all of two seconds before I had to kill them."
The bones laughed again. Fair enough, it whispered. You are the oddest Hunter I have ever met, and I have been alive a very long time. I won't tell you my name, names have power after all, but I will stand at your back when the time comes. If you let me out. Consider it a…GIFT. Not a bargain.
"Oki dokie," Lisa said, refusing to analyze what she had just done. It wasn't a deal, but it was some sort of contract. It didn't make her feel guilty though. Her soul still felt clean. There was nothing tying her back from going to save Ben. If anything, she was going to be stronger for it.
It has been over a thousand years since I granted a gift with so little asked in return, the bones said. I find I quite like the reckless feeling.
"You are all idiots, " the Witch said flatly.
.x.
"What's wrong?" Ian asked, his brown eyes gentle. "You seem distracted."
"Sorry love," Sarah murmured. She glanced away from her phone where she had been looking yet again at her text logs for anything at all from Lisa. There was nothing. She guiltily looked back at her computer screen where her fiance was searching her face, looking for the source of her absentmindedness. Her heart scrunched painfully. This man cared so much, and there was so much she couldn't tell him. It broke her heart.
Kate popped over her shoulder, Abby balanced on one hip while the stuffed penguin dangled from the little girl's fist.
"Leese is gone," Abby said without preamble, and swung her penguin.
"What?" Ian now looked mildly alarmed. "Who is missing? Who is Leese."
"Our roommate," Sarah explained, winding the black hair of one of her braids around her fist. "She left on a work research trip almost two weeks ago, and we haven't heard from her since."
"And she always checks in?" Ian asked, leaning back in his chair, briefly going out of focus on the computer's tiny cam. He readjusted his own lap top.
"Always," Sarah replied promptly, "We are very close."
Ian blew out a sigh that came through as a crackle due to the computer's crappy speakers. "And you haven't gone to the police." It wasn't a question.
Sarah didn't tell him why, he didn't need to know that. But she did give him a reason that was a semblance of the truth. "When she goes out for work, she doesn't give us hotels or anything. Just destinations and how things are going. We've never needed it before." And that was true.
"Start there," Ian said firmly. "Retrace her steps. I am here if you need me, and get the police involved. If things did go pear shaped, you can't do this alone. It would be silly."
"You are right," Sarah murmured, she wasn't going to go to the cops but he wasn't wrong either. They weren't alone in this, not by a long shot. "I love you," she told him, hoping the intensity of her feelings carried through the mess of wires and signals that connected them.
"I love you too," Ian told her, and logged off.
Sarah closed her laptop with a snap. Kate was watching her almost eagerly, a little yellow leaking into her eyes. "Let's get the charcoal and the holy oil. I think a celestial phone call is in order."
.x.
Lisa woke almost sluggishly. Her mouth and head felt stuffed full of cotton and rot, and there was a heavy odor of incense on the air. Drugged, she thought muzzily, I am being drugged. There was the whisper of something dragging over the stone floor. Coming closer and closer. Vaguely she saw LeMarr's prone body in the cage nearby, and the Witch was slumped at her feet, also out cold.
Take a bone, the pile of bones whispered, the sound like clean desert sand sliding over her mind. Briefly Lisa's brain became unfogged. She reached over, not quite stopping to think about what she was doing, and snapped off the bone pile's middle finger at the second joint. The ancient sinew cracked and came apart easily. In her fist she now held a boney finger, grimy and brown with age. The only reason she could see it at all in the dimness was the faint gleam of one of the gold rings on the bones' fingers. Lisa stuffed the finger bones into her pocket.
Good luck, the bones said, sounding far away.
The smoke and incense closed over her head, dragging her back down into the dark.
.x.
Lisa awoke on dark sand, the cloying stench of old blood clogging her nostrils. She came awake like a thunderclap rolling to her feet just in time to dodge a Rugaru's claws. Her sword cleared its sheath in the same motion, and the silver blade carved off a few of the Rugaru's reaching fingers just as she got out of its range. It screeched, skittering back on all four limbs like a large humanoid spider. It crouched in the black sand and clutched its ruined hand close, looking at her balefully. It didn't even resemble a person anymore, it was all grey skin stretched over sharp bone and covered in old dark blood. Lisa kept one eye on it, sword still at guard, and looked over the sand. LeMarr lay there unconscious, right next to Jerry's prone body, and the Witch Ada leaned over them both. She held an open wound on her wrist over their foreheads, clearly intending to drip blood on them for some nefarious purpose. Upon closer inspection, the necklace of protection that rendered her harmless was gone. On Lisa's other side, the Rugaru growled.
They were fucked.
She groped behind her underneath her motorcycle jacket, searching for then gun, hoping against hope it was still there. To her shock, it was. Lisa yanked her pistol out of the back of her pants and thumbed off the safety. The Sig Sauer barked once and the Witch's forehead blew apart in red mist and brain matter. She collapsed on the sand, a cooling corpse. The sound of the gunshot was enough to drag LeMarr out of his drugged stupor. He lurched to his feet, dark eyes sweeping the sand for enemies while he dragged Jerry's unconscious body to where Lisa held the sword and gun on the Rugaru, keeping the creature at bay.
"Where is the other one," he asked, pulling an angel blade out of his pack. His eyes never stopped searching the sand.
The Rugaru charged and Lisa dropped the gun behind her, trusting LeMarr to snatch it up. He was a better shot than she was after all. Both hands closed around the grip of her sword and she ducked under the Rugaru's wild swing, sawing the blade of her sword up into its skeletal shoulder. The blade began to smoke as it burned against the corruption in the Rugaru's body
"What one?" she screamed over the Rugaru's pained roaring, yanking her sword out.
LeMarr had the gun out, eyes continuing to sweep the black sand as the muzzle of the gun tracked with him. "The numbers are always even," he shouted back at her. "If you haven't killed it yet, there is something we can't see still in here with us."
"Shit," Lisa muttered. It couldn't be easy could it? She backed up until her back was pressed to LeMarr's, Jerry's body lying safe between them. Lisa spared the man a glance. He hadn't woken up, and she jammed two fingers under his neck, feeling for his pulse. It was light and fast. Her breath blew out in a relieved huff. For a moment, she had been afraid he was dead. Jerry was probably out cold due to withdrawal rather than the influences of whatever had knocked them all out.
Laughter floated down to them from the shadowy alcoves surrounding the arena. One eye still on the Rugaru, Lisa searched the dark for whatever had laughed at them. Was that the final creature they had to kill?
Like a curtain, the darkness parted to let something slimy and tentacled push through. The tentacles oozed around a pillar, and Lisa suspected that it was just a mere piece of a larger creature. It wasn't like anything she had seen before. What the hell was ginormous and covered with tentacles? Then her heart stopped. Ben had pushed out of the darkness next to the tentacles, his eyes as black as pitch.
"Hello mother," he said, in a voice that wasn't her son but a thousand tortured souls crying out all at once.
"Shut up," Lisa snarled, "Legion." She all but spat the name. "Give me back my son!"
"No." Legion replied, smiling a little. "I like my new suit." The demon ran Ben's hand through his dark hair, smoothing the greasy unkempt strands back.
"I'll cut you out," Lisa promised, boots sliding in the sand as she sunk into a crouch. She was ready to move, the sword practically vibrated in her hand as though it sensed the dark and was ready to follow her eagerly. "I will never stop coming. You hear me? Never! I will cut you out and then I will burn your miserable kingdom down around you until there is nothing left but ASHES." At the end of her promise, her voice was a guttural roar.
Legion's smile slid from its face. "I know," it murmured. "That's why I sold you to dear Nergal here." One of Ben's pallid white hands stroked along the creature's tentacles.
Lisa felt revulsion crawl in her gut at the sight, and had the sensation of oil and rot crawling up her spine. The tentacles had roiled at the revelation of the name, Nergal apparently did not like the fact that it had been outed, but now they were quieting at the touch. They looked almost happy. Lisa could have been sick. Somehow she had to get up there. She was going to cut the Nergal thing's heart out, and then she was going to carve Legion into little pieces until there was nothing left. After she pulled him from been. Then Ben was going to therapy. A lot of therapy.
Her thigh warmed, and Lisa nearly jumped in surprise. She'd almost forgotten the finger bone and ring in her pocket. Oddly enough, it felt like the healing touch of a friend. Lisa smoothed one hand over her pocket, letting the sensation wash over her and purge the rotten miasma from her mind. The bones were an unknown, but it wasn't the poison of the demon in front of her.
"Nergal," LeMarr's voice was soft, as he finally realized what they were facing. "Assyrian God of Death and Pestilence, and Aramaic demon. Your sword and mine should do the trick. We get up there, we get close, we can kill it."
Lisa dropped a hand to Jerry's forehead, his skin was cold and clammy. "Someone has to stay with Jerry," she said softly. "We aren't leaving him alone."
"You aren't going up there alone either," LeMarr snapped, looking at her fiercely. "I don't want to go back to doing this Hunter thing by myself."
She opened her mouth to tell him that he had Garth, Ginger, hundreds of other Hunters, but closed it with a click. Garth was gone, and Ginger had been forced to take a backseat by the Wendigo. She was what held them together. When someone needed her, she came. When someone called, she picked up the phone. If Alice, Garth's Second, didn't have the answer, then she damn well found it. Leading the Hunters for two years had made them rely on her. Looking at LeMarr, he was still a kid forced by the Supernatural monsters to be a man, forced to see and do things no child should. He didn't need a mom, not anymore, but he did need someone to rely on. They all did. And she couldn't do this alone either. Going off half cocked and angry by herself was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place.
"You are right," she said finally. "I'm sorry. We will figure something out."
"Damn right," LeMarr said mulishly. He kicked Jerry's leg with one scuffed up red and white Nike. "Wake up dude. You been playing sleeping beauty for long enough."
Jerry groaned and threw up into the sand. "Shit," he mumbled, voice dampened by sand and puke. "Where's th' fire."
"You're in it dude," LeMarr told him, rolling his eyes. He kicked him again, gently, and Jerry rolled over.
"I feel like shit." Jerry said.
"You look like shit," LeMarr told him helpfully.
"Shut up kid," Jerry said, attempting to stumble to his feet, and nearly falling face first back into his own sick. "I need a drink."
"You need a boot in the ass and rehab," Lisa told him, digging in her pocket. A cold wind had begun to whisper over the sand, sending icy fingers up her spine. The third player was about to show itself. She dug the bone finger from her pocket and handed it to Jerry. "Here, take this. LeMarr, give him whatever weapon he won't accidentally kill us with."
Jerry held the finger between two fingers, squinting at it in disgust. "The fuck is this weird shit man. Gross!"
"Do you feel better?" Lisa asked, exasperated.
Jerry opened his mouth to argue with her, that no goddammit it was a FINGER BONE and that was freaking nasty, but closed it a moment later. "Yeah." He said almost wonderingly. "I don't feel sick no more."
"Not sick enough to accidentally shoot one of us?" LeMarr asked, eyeing him speculatively.
Jerry nodded, closing his fist over the bone. "Yeah. Gimme the gun."
"Well," Legion said, taking its hand from Nergal's winding tentacle. "as positively touching as this has all been. I must leave you. Cities to topple and souls to take you know. Ta!" Legion disappeared in a cloud of black smoke, tentacles surging forward to take its space.
Lisa roared, a wordless cry of rage and desperation. Ben had been so close! She was going to follow through on her threat and kill Legion if it was the last thing she ever did.
All around them, gates were sliding up and nightmares were crawling onto the sand. Lisa recognized a lot of them: witches, rawheads, kappas, and wendigos. Spiders the size of horses. Some of them she did not have names for: hairless, pale slimy things that moved on spidery limbs and had too many eyes and too many teeth. The monsters were already turning on each other. One witch was disappearing screaming into the maw of a Wendigo, fire crackling helplessly at her fingertips as the Wendigo casually tore off her head.
Let me out, the voice from the bones whispered over the sand. Let me out and I will help you little Hunter.
"The finger is talking," Jerry said, looking grossed out and intrigued at the same time.
"Which gate?" Lisa asked, talking to the bones and him at the same time.
"This is freaking weird," LeMarr muttered. He rammed the smoking angel blade into a shadowy daeva that had gotten too close. It screamed, lit up with a blinding white light, and then erupted into phosphorus flames and died. "Take that bitch."
The gate ahead of you, the bones replied. They managed to sound entertained.
"Dunno how," Jerry said, raising the pistol to sight along at the Wendigo. He put a bullet in its forehead. The Wendigo dropped, twitching, but the bullet wasn't fire. The Wendigo would be back on its feet soon. "We are gonna need a goddamn miracle to get through this shit show."
They all got the distinct impression the bones were rolling its eyes. Spoke too soon. You got your wish, they said.
Nergal screamed with fear and rage.
.x.
Castiel returned to Dean and Sam's home with a whisper, scaring the crap out of the older brother when he appeared just behind the refrigerator door. Dean cracked his head on the refrigerator in surprise, nearly dropping the pie he had been bending over to get.
"What the hell Cas? You are gone for months without a word, and then you are just back?"
"Sorry." The angel leaned against the counter, watching hollowed eyed as Dean emptied an entire can of whip cream onto his dime store pumpkin pie. "You are going to get fat," the angel told him.
Dean aimed the whip cream can at him. "Shut your face hole, dude. You do not get to show up out of nowhere and insult my eating habits. Now go away or the rest of this can is going on your face."
"Where is Sam?" Castiel asked, noting the silence of the Men of Letters bunker.
"At a coffee shop in town," Dean replied, shoving a fork right into the middle of his pie and carving out a huge chunk. He popped it into his mouth. "Research."
"New project?"
"Yep. Road ghost. No one has taken care of it and it is raising hell."
"Ah." Castiel's eyes slid closed. He felt so terribly thin, so terribly tired. He missed-
"Why are you here dude?" Dean asked, dragging him from a sulphiric memory of dark eyes and a mouth as red as an apple, and back to the kitchen. Castiel registered the heavy feel of the mask in his trench coat, right next to the tablet.
"Because L-Alice is about to die," Castiel said, his exhaustion causing him to nearly say the wrong name. Luckily Dean didn't appear to catch his slip.
"What?" The pie was on the counter, forgotten. "Where is she? What is going on?" Dean asked, searching the angel's serene gaunt face. He didn't want to have Alice and have her be nothing more than a loose thread in his past. He still had to thank her for the Amazons.
"We must go to kick ass," Castiel said practically. "I do not want her to die either. She holds the Hunters together after all. Her death would create too big a rift, it would take much for you and Sam to heal." The angel didn't feel bad about that answer, it wasn't a lie after all. Lisa had taken up too much responsibility and too much rested on her shoulders, even if the real reason was Ben. Dean couldn't know. It would break him, and he was too broken already. Castiel briefly touched Lisa's mask and resolved to get it to her before Dean saw her.
"Well do your mojo and let's get there," Dean snapped, hurriedly shrugging into his leather jacket. "Machete or shotgun?" He held them both out to the angel.
Castiel thought a moment, considering. "Both," he replied, and pressed his fingers to Dean's forehead.
.x.
The angel was there beside her between one moment and the next, shoving her mask into her hand.
"What the ever loving hell?" Dean's shotgun roared and Lisa heard the guttural scream of a ghoul as rock salt burned into it.
Lisa rammed the mask onto her face, latching it tight. Castiel watched her throw up her armor, disappearing into her façade of Hunter Leader as easily as one drew on a cloak. The angel smiled sadly, and Lisa gripped his shoulder. "Thank you," she said low. "Ben was here. He was here!" She knew she couldn't be heard over the screaming and gunfire.
Castiel's gaze slid from her and up to the balcony where Nergal was screaming and roaring. "I know." His voice was soft and gentle, and under that steel promise. "I will get him if I can Lisa; I must go through Nergal first."
"Can you take him?" Lisa asked in an embarrassingly small voice. The tentacles were writhing in a grotesque parody of painful ecstasy. Nergal did not like the fact that its prey had help, but it clearly got off on the bloodbath happening below. Castiel was an angel, but Nergal was a god that was unwounded and at the height of its power. She didn't want to ask anyone to do anything that they couldn't do.
Castiel looked back at her and to her surprise he smiled, amusement cutting through the exhaustion on his face. "I am a soldier, Lisa," he replied, touching her chin just under her mask. It was the healing touch of a friend, an ally at her back, and just like that her worries melted away. "This is what I was built for and Nergal has remained fat and unchallenged too long."
Lisa playfully swatted Castiel on the backside with her sword. "Then go get em' tiger." The angel rolled his eyes but secretly he was please. He always liked to be included, made to feel like he was 'one of the guys' per say.
"Look away," Castiel ordered, raising his voice so that it tolled like a bell across the battle field.
Lisa did so, and just in time. She caught the edge of a huge humanoid creature, blinding white, with eyes like blue fire and holding a flaming sword, step forward to meet Nergal's writhing tentacles. She was fairly certain the only reason her eyes hadn't burned out of her skull at seeing Castiel's true form was due to her mask, and the fact that she had seen only his back and his side. If she had looked into his face she would be dead. Lisa turned. She trusted Castiel that he had the situation in hand.
Lisa grabbed Jerry and LeMarr, both who had thrown up arms in front of their faces, and hauled them towards the nearest gate and the darkness beyond. A hand grabbed her shoulder, and Lisa very nearly gutted its owner before she realized it was Dean that had grabbed her.
"We can't leave Cas!" he shouted over the screaming and the crackling of fire.
An archeri materialized next to them, a little girl, its eyes glowing with gold light and face twisted in a semblance of a smile. Lisa rammed her sword into its mouth as it snarled. "He'll catch up," she shouted back.
Lisa yanked her smoking sword out of the archeri and pushed LeMarr and Jerry towards the gate. "Run! We can't kill them all."
She couldn't help herself, she glanced back to see if Dean followed, looking at his face and not at the brilliant white light behind him. Dean seemed to know that he would be no help to an ally he couldn't even look at. Castiel was fighting with his blinders off, a danger to his friends as well as his foes. Dean took one last sidelong look at the white flaming creature that was Castiel, before he set his hand to the small of her back. It was a light touch but she felt the heat of his palm through her jacket and despite herself a heat kindled low in her belly.
"I'm right behind you," he assured her, giving her a light push. "Run."
Lisa squelched the feeling burning in her gut, and ran, cutting the legs off of a rawhead as she did so. Sound echoed strangely in the dark tunnels. It was hard to tell their ragged breathing from the sounds of the monsters in there with them. Twice a nameless horror nearly killed her, and twice Dean's machete severed a head from a monstrous spinal column. Lisa did the same for him, killing another acheri before it plunged its hands into his guts.
"We're at the cages!" LeMarr called ahead.
Lisa rounded a corner to see Jerry holding a flashlight while LeMarr worked at the door that held the bones with a crowbar. She sheathed her sword and went to help LeMarr work at the cage. The old metal groaned, giving ground by inches.
"What are you doing?" Dean asked, not really paying attention to them as he scanned darkness around them for enemies.
"We're letting bones out," Jerry told him cheerfully. "Because they asked so nicely."
"What?" Dean's head snapped around to look at them, and the cage opened with a loud crack.
It was too late to do anything. Sand and bones spilled out of the cage, spiraling into the vague shape of a woman. Brittle skin browned with age was stretched over her bones, a tattered grey shift hung over the mummy's body and the grimy gold of her collar gleamed in the dim light. Eyes burned like hot coals in her grinning skull. The bone woman stumbled towards them, sand spilling out of her.
"Do we still have an understanding?" Lisa asked, pleased to see her voice wasn't shaking. She was wondering if she had made a mistake, now that the voice wasn't a friendly whisper in her pocket but a skeleton standing on its own.
"You guys are idiots," Dean muttered from somewhere behind her. Lisa heard his boots crunch the gravel and knew he was moving to get a good shot in case the bone creature attempted to kill them.
The bone woman's coal bright eyes slid to Jerry. "Give me back my finger," she said, ignoring Dean's subtle threat.
"Oh yeah!" Jerry shoved his hand into his pocket and handed the creature its finger. "Sorry I got it all sweaty."
The bones looked at the proffered finger, and Lisa got the distinct impression it was heaving a long suffering sigh. "As you see," the bones replied dryly as it slotted its finger back into place. "I am no longer fresh."
Lisa barked a short laugh. That had to be a first, a Supernatural creature making a joke. "I will uphold my promise," the bones said, "I will help you and lead you out. I am afraid you must do most of the work, however. I am not what I was. I don't suppose you could spare a little blood?"
"NO!" they all shouted in unison.
"Ah well," the bones shrugged. "It was worth asking. Follow me." The bones moved away into the dark, and Jerry and LeMarr followed after glancing at each other. Lisa moved after them and Dean grabbed her shoulder.
"Did you make a deal with whatever that is?" he asked her, low and fierce.
She chuckled, low, moving close to see him better in the dim light. She was gratified to see him swallow. So she hadn't imagined them flirting after all, Dean was attracted to her- to Alice. "And what if I did," she asked. "I've heard you sell your soul like its potato chips."
He dropped his hand from her shoulder. "Forget it. I'm sorry I cared." Lisa immediately felt guilty. She'd hurt his feelings. It was a low blow on her part anyway. Dean knew better than anyone the pain of losing a soul, it wasn't her right to throw it back in his face. No matter how pissed she was, she didn't have the right to drudge that up.
She bent closer, intending to apologize, but stopped. "What's on your face?" she asked, peering at him, inches away.
"What?"
"You've got goo on your mouth."
"Oh," he looked sheepish and embarrassed all of a sudden. "It's whip cream. I was in the middle of eating a pie before I came here."
He immediately ducked his head and attempted to wipe it off on the back of his hand. Lisa drug her own hand down a clean section of the inside of her jacket, then popped her thumb into her mouth. She could no longer hear Jerry or LeMarr; it was just the two of them in the dark. The darkness was nearly absolute; she could barely see the outline of his generous mouth half a foot in front of her.
"May I?" she asked softly, hoping he gave his consent. She was being reckless. There were monsters all around them and she was mad as hell, but oh she wanted to touch him so bad.
"Yes." His answer was a breathless whisper that she barely heard.
She took her thumb from her mouth and drug it along his bottom lip, wiping off the evidence of his pie habit. Lisa had fully intended to be content with just that one touch, there were lions and tigers and bears after all, but her brain shortened out when Dean opened his mouth, took her gently by the wrist, and curled his tongue around her thumb. She gasped. Lisa wrenched off the mask- if she couldn't see him clearly then dammit he couldn't see her and she would take the risk, even though she was sure it was her libido reasoning fueled by the hellacious dry spell she was going through.
She sunk her hands into his thick short hair and yanked him to her. Her mouth crashed into his full one, reacquainting herself with the plush curves of his mouth and the way he smelled. It was like coming home on a cold day, shaking off snow and sinking in front of a fireplace in a clean warm sweater. She gasped, licking into his mouth and kissing him ferociously. His teeth sank into her bottom lip as he curled his hands under her butt, hiking her up so that she could wind her legs around his waist, locking her ankles against his ass. Their voracious heat dimmed to a slow burn, kisses turning slow and sloppy as she wound her arms around his neck, fisting her hands into his hair. Dean's hipbones cut into her thighs and she wiggled on him happily. She'd forgotten just how strong he was. The man held her like she was nothing.
"Alice," he whispered into her mouth.
The name was like a cold bucket of ice water down her spine.
He thought he was kissing the woman who's name she wore like armor in order to hide, not Lisa Braeden. They were in a Supernatural murder pit, and there was no time to analyze whatever this meant. She drew back. Dean sensed the change in her feelings and let her slide down him. Lisa was gratified to feel the brush of an erection against her as she went, and despite the need to get out of Dodge, she pressed back up against him. He was like an addiction she couldn't shake and didn't want to shake. She knew it at that Pantera concert over a decade ago and she knew it now.
He held her gently, having felt her pull away from him earlier. He was giving her the chance to move away if she wanted it. She loved him for that. Lisa knew that she was going to have to deal with this mess eventually as she laced her mask back on. Dean was nothing if not persistent, and Alice had just made out with him and practically ground down on him. He wasn't just going to let it go. Lisa decided she didn't care.
She let herself have one more selfish move before they got the hell out of there, something that she hadn't done since Dean had fixed her dishwasher all those years ago. She reached around him and grabbed his butt. Yep, still awesome.
"Satisfied?" Dean asked, low and content.
She didn't need to see his face to know that he was grinning like a cat that had gotten the canary. Dean always was a bit of a vain man, but Lisa had always admired beautiful things and she had no problem letting him know, then or now.
"Oh yes," she said, voice pitched low, giving him a little pat.
"This is an inappropriate place to be touching his butt."
Lisa shrieked in surprise, sword coming up to bear against Castiel's throat, recognizing the angel's voice at the last minute. Castiel had dimmed his glow, and Lisa was grateful. She shoved her mask back on her face, tying it snugly and pulling her hood up for good measure. When her mask was in place, Castiel brightened; filling the space they were in with a soft white light.
Dean didn't look perturbed at all to have been cockblocked by an angel of the Lord. "Man I didn't know you could play glow stick!"
Castiel looked at him peevishly. "Because I am an angel Dean. Not a night light."
"Whatever."
"Are you okay?" Lisa asked the angel. He no longer looked tired, not while he and Dean were bickering like old friends.
Castiel cocked his head at her and smiled a slow, content smile. "It was good exercise," he said. "Nergal is dead and the way behind you is safe, and the way ahead of you his clear thanks to your companions."
"Thank you for your help," Lisa said, and meant it from the bottom of her heart.
"You are welcome," Castiel replied serenely. "But that does not mean this is an appropriate place for touching Dean's butt."
Lisa choked and Dean howled with laughter, while Castiel looked at them confused.
"Have I got something wrong again?"
To be continued...