CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT: The Calm Before The Storm
"Why can't I come to this new hideout?" Meg pouted, crossing her arms in the middle of Bobby's living room where Sam was about to leave her.
The demon hesitated, his past distrust for the brunette clouding the recent helpfulness she's served. He shook his head and gestured with frustrated hands. "You just can't okay? The less people who know about it the better." He reasoned, earning a glare from Meg. "Oh come on, don't be like this. You don't owe us anything and we sure as hell don't owe you anything."
"Yes we do." Mary breathed from the hallway, her mouth agape as she eyed Meg as if she was some type of savior which was absurd enough to Sam.
"What?" He said, exasperated as Meg seemed to all of a sudden turn embarrassed.
Mary stepped forward, prying her gaze from the brunette demon to look her son in the eyes. "Give us a minute? I'll meet you there." She reassured when he gave her a doubtful look.
With a silent nod, Sam was gone and left his mother and Meg standing there alone. They wallowed in silence for a beat before Mary spoke up. "You know, when the boys told me that they got help from a demon named Meg, I had no idea it was the same demon that rescued me away from Azazel…" She trailed off, not sure the best way to show her appreciation for what the brunette had done. "You took a huge risk and I just want to say-"
"Don't." Meg cut in, waving a hand dismissively at the puzzled mother. "It was no big deal." She tried to convince, but Mary wasn't having it. She remembered that day and it was not something that could be glossed over.
Mary was standing in front of Garth Fitzgerald the IV's house, a completely shocked look overcoming her features.
"He's a hunter. He'll help you get to your kids." Meg spoke from behind her, the blonde spinning around fast.
"Why did you do this?" Mary questioned, genuinely in awe that anyone would rescue her for no apparent reason.
A lopsided grin tugged at the brunette's lips, shrugging casually. "Your kids are in trouble. Who better to help them then you?"
"No big deal?!" Mary yelled, suddenly angry at the demon. "You could've been killed or captured -"
The brunette interrupted once again and received a look that could kill. "Mary, I've done my share of awful things. That was just one good deed and doesn't change anything." Meg sighed and brushed her hair out of her face, her trademark smug grin forming on her face. "Now, how about we end this puke fest and go save Dean?"
With a small smile, Mary grabbed Meg's arm.
….
Sam was sitting with his head in his hands, his elbows propped up on the long table that seemed to be in the huge fortress's library.
He still could barely understand why they were here, in this mysterious place this stranger had brought them to. How do they even know they can trust him?
There was something about Allison though, some type of trait, that just makes you want to believe whatever she tells you. So, they did.
"We can't stay here, Cas! We don't know anything about these people or this place. For all we know, Tim could want to kill Dean!" Sam barked, pacing the length of the room he had been given while the angel watched from his position seated on the bed.
Castiel shook his head, not agreeing with the youngest Winchester. "Sam, I am positive we are safe here, nothing supernatural can pass through those walls so we should stay put until we know more. I already brought Ellen here. Just give Allison and Tim a chance."
"Hey, Sam." The blonde demon began, approaching her son's side and pulling him out of his reverie. She looked down at his tense and worried shoulders that seemed to mimic her own, wishing she could do something to help when he finally looked up at her.
The young demon cleared his throat and sat up straight so he could see Mary better. "Hey, how's Dean?"
"John said to come get you." The blonde said, ignoring his question. She gave him a soft but forced smile and rubbed his shoulder before planting a kiss on his head.
Sam stood up, preparing himself for the worst as he made his way down the long hallways to what Tim had referred to as the dungeon.
…
"Sir, I am afraid I have troubling news."
With a sigh, Raphael spun around slowly in his chair, his fierce gaze resting on one of his many followers. When the young angel didn't continue, the African American man gave him an expectant look. "Come on, Uriel. I don't have all day." He insisted, the Archangel's tone impatient.
Uriel took a calming breath. He had to admit, he hated the self-righteous, arrogant ass that was the man in front of him and he wish he knew what had happened to Naomi. But, unless he wanted to die, he had to deal with it. Biting his tongue, he proceeded to be the bearer of bad news. "Unfortunately, Dean Winchester has escaped from our grasp once again and our brother, Castiel, is the one that got in the way." He finished bitterly, Cas's betrayal still fresh in his mind.
Raphael stood up, moving around to the front of his desk. Radiating power and malice, the Archangel spoke. "Then maybe it is Castiel we need to deal with first."
"Sir, if I may speak freely." Uriel began, looking hesitant. Raphael just simply nodded, hoping it wasn't a waste of his time. "Once the Winchester is captured, what do we plan to do? We can't kill him. Do you plan to remove the mark?"
The Archangel scoffed, shaking his head. "The only person who can remove the mark won't do our kind any favors anytime soon. Feel free to ask him though as soon as he is topside."
Uriel scrunched his brows together, unclear on what his leader was saying. "I'm sure with our methods, we could make Cain-"
He was cut off by Raphael's cruel laughter. "Cain?" He chuckled as if the mere idea was ludicrous. "I wasn't talking about Cain."
Realization dawned on the angel's face as his thoughts reminded him of a conversation he had had the other week about the start of Armageddon. With a bad feeling in his gut about the months to come, Uriel bowed politely before exiting hurriedly.
…
Dean woke up with an ever-increasing headache and his forearm feeling like about 140 degrees.
He shook his head slightly, regretting it immediately after, and pried his heavy eyelids open. His brows drew together in confusion, not sure where the hell he was as the hazy form of his father came into view.
The Knight's thoughts were fuzzy as he looked down, not surprised to see his wrists and ankles shackled to a metal chair and a devil's trap at his feet. He felt as if he wasn't really there, his mind a muddied mess he was trying to swim through.
"Dean? You with me?" John asked, a hint of worry in his voice as he approached his son warily. The middle Winchester nodded slowly, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment before returning those brilliant green orbs back to meet his father's concerned gaze. "We sedated you, son. We had to do the right precautions."
Although the demon wasn't mad at his family for doing it, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt surge through him at the thought that he made those around him feel unsafe. He also felt misplaced anger, but had no idea where that was coming from. "Those work on demons?" Dean questioned, never hearing of something like that.
John smiled bitterly, knowing it was strange sounding. "When you're in that trap and your powers are cut off." He clarified, watching as his son nodded once again as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Um, I'm sure you're wondering where you are."
"It crossed my mind." Dean admitted, glancing around the dark room that seemed to have shelving as a door.
So John ran through what all Tim had told them, explaining the Men of Letters and what the legacy had called this 'The Bunker.' At first, the eldest Winchester was having trouble having an almost normal conversation with his son, how could he go from a ruthless killer to the frightened man sitting before him, pale and glassy-eyed? It didn't make sense and the old hunter hoped that things didn't flip on him.
But then again, when did they ever have good luck?
There was a knock and the pair looked at the shelves being pulled apart, watching as Mary poked her head in.
"Everything okay in here?" She said hesitantly, making her way father into the small space.
Dean suddenly closed his eyes, a grunt and a moan escaping from him as he grounded his teeth.
"Dean?!" John yelled, rushing over to him and bracing his large hands on his son's shoulders. "Come on, Dean. Talk to me!"
The Knight's eyes shot open, his pitch black gaze resting on his forearm that was glowing bright scarlet. "It- it hurts-" Dean managed to get out, a bone-chilling scream wracking its way through his body as the pain blossomed, shooting through his veins and lacing his entire inner being with fire.
The eldest hunter's eyes were wide with terror as his gaze searched Dean's body frantically, trying to find something that could be hurting him. "What hurts?!" He demanded, another scream echoing off the walls. Finally putting his massive palms on either side of his son's face, he got his attention. "Dammit Dean, what hurts?!"
"The- the mark-" The middle Winchester breathed, his obsidian gaze locking with John's. "Cut it off!" He pleaded, his voice breaking in the middle. "Burn it, do something!"
The bearded man turned bewildered eyes over his shoulder to look at his wife. "Go get Sam. Now."
…
TBC
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