Warning: Back to swearing, mentions of abuse.

Author's Note: So, we're getting there, slowly. And the slowly is mainly because I seem to be really busy right now. Sorry no post last night, friends, ya know. Gotta love 'em. Anyways, you almost didn't get one tonight, either, thanks to work, but I found a spare five minutes!

Chapter 12: Mahone's Wife

Dean stared up at the mansion before him, craning his neck as he stood in its shadow to stare at the roof above. Ash stood next to him, gun down but out, nerves tense and ready.

Ready for what, they weren't sure, but they hadn't expected it to be this easy so far. They had expected guards, and alarms, or wild dogs tamed by the demon… anything but a long garden overgrown with abandonment and a dark building looming somewhat ominously on the horizon. And then there was that silence as the city was left behind and the loneliness of the house took over.

Dean gave Ash a look, frowning at… well, he wasn't sure at what, but the kid had an identical look on his face.

"We've come this far," Ash muttered, shrugging and walking the last foot to stand before the window they had arrived at. Giving a glance back at Dean, Ash put his hands on the glass and pushed up. The window gave way easily before Ash's strength, and Dean shifted uneasily. This was far too easy.

Nevertheless, he followed Ash into the dark room beyond the window, shutting it behind him softly. "Pick a direction," he told the kid. "This was your idea after all."

Ash gave him a small glare, but led off, creeping down the hallway as quietly as he could. Which, to Dean's relief, was pretty damn quiet.

It didn't take long to search the bottom floor of the house, a fact that surprised Dean. Each room seemed to be twice the size it needed to be, creating a sense of emptiness and neglect. That pit in Dean's gut grew, anxiety heightened by the continuing darkness and lack of love. What sort of woman kept a house like this? They hadn't found much out about Holly Mahone, just that she had married Mahone while she was young and was rarely seen out and about. Most people seemed to think she was a snob.

Seeing this place, Dean wasn't ready to agree. In fact, he was beginning to get the feeling she did know about Mahone's dealing and enslaving. And either was just as heartless as her husband, or was forced to keep the secret and herself hidden. That was what the house almost screamed as they walked the empty ground floor.

Satisfied there was nothing there, Ash led the way back to where he had seen stairs, sneaking up them with enough skill to avoid creaking. At the top he turned right. Dean followed, looking about for something to point them in the right direction.

The hallway ended about twenty feet from the stairs, but it took them much longer to search the distance after looking in each room behind the numerous doors. It turned out that they needn't have worried.

Ash came to the last door and turned the handle, making a small noise as he came across resistance. He turned back to Dean.

"This one's locked," he said softly, his voice a bare whisper that sounded incredibly loud in the house.

Dean cocked his head, shining his torch on the lock. Something about it was bugging him. He looked about, knowing the second story couldn't have ended this soon. There had to be another ten or fifteen feet of length to go. And there was something about the lock.

He crept closer, kneeling down and shining his light in the keyhole. Then he gave a disgruntled sigh.

"Yeah, you're right," Dean told Ash, fishing about in his pockets. "But it's locked from the outside."

In a matter of minutes he had picked the lock and stood, putting the set carefully back in his pocket for easy access. He pulled his gun back out and nodded at Ash. The kid nodded back, understanding hardening his eyes. He took a step back and pulled his gun up, pointing it at whatever foe met them behind the door.

Dean stepped to the side, hand on the handle. He counted mentally to three before throwing the door open and stepping back, ready to fire.

Nothing was there but another set of stairs, winding up into an even darker, colder part of the house. The older hunter took only a moment to decide – they had come this far after all. He took the first step across the threshold.

The winding stairs were cold but thankfully short, opening out into another hallway, bare of anything but lights, dimly lit bulbs creating shadows that danced along the floor and hall as the light flickered with old age. At least, Dean hoped that was all they flickered with. He couldn't smell any ozone; if he had he would have been back down those stairs in seconds, having left his shotgun in the Impala. But that was all they needed, a ghost to handle on this crime spree.

Dean led the way this time, naturally taking the lead as he took halting steps down the hallway. A room at the end beckoned to him, the warm light of flames showing from beyond the partially open door.

The two hunters came to a silent stop either side of the door, knowing that was where Mahone's wife, Holly, would be.

"There's no need to hide out there."

The sudden call from inside the room made them both jump, fingers tightening on the trigger. The woman inside, her voice a little hoarse, chuckled loudly. Dean and Ash shared a look, before the elder shrugged. He walked into the room, gun up.

The woman was sitting in a large armchair facing an open fire roaring with warmth. Beside her was a small table laden with a crystal jug of amber liquid and a half-full glass of the alcohol.

She was still chuckling as Dean came round to face her, gun pointed at her. She gave it a raised eyebrow before looking up at him, all but ignoring Ash as he came to a halt behind her.

"You're both two big strapping boys," she told him, immediately talking down to him, though she couldn't have been much older than Dean himself. "Surely you don't need those guns to handle me."

Dean shared a look with Ash, and the woman cackled again. This time Dean heard some of the bitterness behind it, frowning as he turned his gaze back on her.

"You're Holly Mahone, right?" he asked, not really sure. She was small, almost fragile, limp blonde hair obviously dyed going by the dark brown regrowth showing at the roots. Her eyes were grey, tired, eternally sad. Dean knew she would have been beautiful in her day, though if life had treated her any differently, he was sure she would still have been in her day. Now, she seemed decades older than she could have been, all except that constant terror or anxiety gleaming behind the bitter bemusement in her eyes and vibrating in the tense way she held herself. She was ready for a fight, and she would be damned if she fell before it.

Dean felt his arms dropping as Mahone's wife nodded, letting his gun down. There was no way this woman agreed with her husband's dealings. She was a near-defeated prisoner in her own home. Near, because he had a feeling they had just given her some hope.

"That's me," she told him. "Mrs Isaac Mahone. Trophy, prize, and personal boxing bag." At that last she gave a small touch to her chest, as if feeling some wound, flinching. She looked away, reaching for her glass, and swallowing half of it before looking back at him. "What do you want?" she demanded as she replaced the glass on the mahogany table beside her.

Dean glanced quickly at Ash, who was frowning in something similar to confusion at Holly Mahone. Knowing he would be getting nothing from the kid, he looked back at the woman staring up at him.

"Your husband," Dean told her simply. She gave another of those short, bitter cackles.

"Of course. I should have known. It was only a matter of time before Isaac's dealings got to me."

"So you do know about what he does?" Ash demanded, speaking up for the first time. Holly Mahone didn't even glance back at him.

"I know all about Isaac. What sort of wife, what sort of person would I be if I didn't?" she answered to Dean, ignoring Ash completely. Then she frowned, studying him with a cocked head. "The question is, do you know what he does? Or rather, what he's done."

Dean stared down at her for a moment. Then he nodded. "We know. Everything."

She surprised him by laughing again. "So you're hunters. I wondered how long it would take for some of you to catch up with him."

"How do you know about hunters?" Dean asked.

She shrugged. "I've met some before. When I was younger… So who does he have? Friends? Lovers? Siblings?"

Dean refused to answer. "So you know about the deal, about the demon…" He trailed off, but Ash took up where he had left.

"Why haven't you done anything about it?" the kid demanded harshly. Dean gave him a quick glare, but Mahone's wife flared with anger, and maybe guilt.

"And here I thought you had some idea about what you were dealing with!" she spat at Dean, like he had been the one to accuse her. "Have you met my bastard of a husband? Do you have any fucking idea what he's capable of?"

She leaned forward, as though about to impart some wisdom upon Dean. "Isaac is a ruthless son of a bitch willing to do anything to get what he wants. To him, the world isn't grey, nor is it black and white. It's purple, and blue, and any other colour bruises and force turns when people are struck with it. The man sold his soul, hunter! Or the closest thing to it. And now, because demons are creatures of depravity, he sells other human beings to keep his life. That is the man you're dealing with!"

She leaned back, shaking her head and taking her glass in hand again. But she didn't take a drink, but continued her lesson. "When I found out about Isaac and his deal… he was angry beyond human capacity. He very nearly killed me then and there. Instead he killed my son, our son. Made me watch as he drowned my baby boy over and over again, saying I wasn't a faithful wife, that I didn't deserve my child, or my freedom. Why do you think that door was locked? Because whenever he is not here, he locks me up here to drown in the guilt that I can't do anything about what he's doing. Believe me, hunter. If I could stop him, I would die to do so. But locked up here, there's nothing I can do."

She took a sip of her drink, but her rant had left Dean reeling. Ash looked pale in the firelight, finally having dropped his gun from its trained position on the back of Holly Mahone's chair.

"How could you marry someone like that?" Dean demanded without thinking, unable to grasp the concept.

"Because he wasn't always like that," Holly answered quietly, desperately. "He was kind, and warm, and he loved me. And then he opened that fucking club, made the fucking deal… and he became a monster."

Dean shook his head, trying to sort out these details in his mind. He needed to get back on track, had to get down to the reason they were here. "Do you know where he could be holding the people he takes?" he asked, voice a little pleading.

Holly shook her head. "That's the only thing I never found out. I have no clue… Besides, I'm not sure you'll want to find them."

Dean took a step back at the absolute conviction in her declaration. "Why do you say that?" he asked, unable to keep the sudden strain from his voice.

She replaced her glass without taking a drink. "Because if you're… friends are true hunters, they'll refuse to talk. About you, about themselves… Trust me, Isaac will know something's there, and when he knows there's something there, he won't stop until he knows it. He'll use whatever means necessary to get that information. And when he gets it, when… he'll continue hurting them just for fun."

"What are you getting at?" Dean questioned, refusing to get it. He could see Ash quivering in the corner of his eye.

Holly took his gaze and held it, sympathy warming them and dimming some of that terror that seemed so natural in those grey orbs. "Your friends, when you find them, may not be your friends anymore. They may be broken shells of their former selves… How long has Mahone had them?" Dean knew it was a question she didn't want answered. "Because he'll use every second available to him to make sure their final moments before the demon sells them are utter hell, filled with misery like which they've never seen or felt before."

Dean felt something inside snap, and before he knew it, he had grabbed Holly by her shirt, shoving his gun in and under her jaw, finger tense on the trigger. "You're lying!" he shouted, screamed, desperate to make her take the words back. Sam would be fine, he would be.

Suddenly Ash was there, pulling him back, and he let the kid do so, not willing to believe he had just very nearly shot the woman. He stood up straight, exhausted, but knowing he couldn't sleep just yet. He had to find Sam, before…

"I'm sorry," he breathed at Holly. She shrugged in frightened understanding.

"It's okay. You're tired, and worried, and -."

A sudden bang downstairs made all three jump and Holly's face turned white as she sprung to her feet. Shouts followed, and Dean cursed under his breath. Mahone had found out they were in his house. He turned to Holly.

"Is there another way down?" he asked desperately, refusing to be caught. But she shook her head.

"Only the stairs," she whispered, looking at the door in terror. She seemed paralysed by it, and by the looks of Ash, he was more than anxious as well.

Springing into action, Dean raced to the door, shutting it but giving a groan of frustration as he found no lock. Looking about, his gaze settled on a heavy looking empty bookcase close enough to the door to be moved in time. He could hear the men below running up the stairs to the second story.

"Ash, help me with this!" he cried, grabbing one end of the bookcase but finding it too much for himself. His shout pulled Ash from his reverie, and the kid took a hold on the other end. Between the two hunters, the bookcase was in front of the door in no time.

Taking a deep breath, Dean ran to one of the windows, rattling it but finding it locked. He gave the glass a punch, but that only ended with a bruised fist. He gave a subconscious snarl and pulled his gun out.

"The glass is bulletproof," Holly told him, shaking her head as she came over to the window. Dean glanced at her, grinning wildly.

"Good thing I'm not aiming for the glass then," he told her, taking aim and covering his face.

The shot echoed in the room but blew the complicated lock away, forcing the window wide open. The sudden chill invaded the room and Holly shivered.

Dean turned to her, suddenly incredibly glad the night was just cold and not wet. Ash ran to the window, looking out and then up, trying to judge the best way to get down.

"Holly," Dean began, getting her attention back to him. "You can do this."

She shook her head, frightened like a child on a stormy night. "No, I can't. Go, hunter, go!" And she gave him a shove towards the window.

He shook his head, barely seeing Ash climbing out the window. They both flinched as a thud rocked the door, before he turned back to Holly.

"I'm not leaving you here for… him!" Dean cried. "Mahone'll kill you."

Holly shook her head again, stubbornness setting her face. "No, I can't! Please, just go! Go!"

Her scream mixed in with a second bang that shook the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bookcase move slightly.

"Holly, please…" he begged, but she shook her head, biting her lip.

"No, I can't… go, please. Go!" And she gave him a second shove that almost sent him out the window.

Dean felt his gut tear as he made the decision, felt guilt rip through him as he left another woman for dead that night. But he backed to the window until he felt the ledge behind him.

"Holly," he said softly, grabbing her attention as a third thud echoed across their ears. "Are you sure you have no idea where Mahone might take my brother?" He didn't want to leave her without making her feel like she had helped.

But she shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. "No, I have no clue. I wish I did! Now please, go!"

He was half out the window before he realized it. Dean paused, half in, half out, before grabbing Holly by the arm. "Is there anyone who might know? A friend, family? His parents?"

She looked up at him, confusion or realization making her eyes bright. "Isaac killed his parents when they found out he had become a monster," she told him, putting it together as Dean did. "That was a couple of years -." A fourth bang made the bookcase rock and Holly jump, looking around at the blocked door before turning back to Dean with pleading. "For God's sake, go!"

He nearly tumbled out the window as a fifth bang made them both shake violently. Ash's hand was the only thing that stopped him from falling three stories to his death on the lawn below. The younger hunter grunted as he dragged Dean up to the roof.

They didn't waste any time, springing to their feet and staggering carefully across the roof. Dean was breathing hard, a mixture of guilt, exertion and anger, as they made their way to the tall trees that would aid their escape.

When Holly screamed, a single, chilling note that filled the night as the hunters raced across the lawn back to the car, Dean could only flinch, knowing he would make Mahone pay hell for all that he had done.

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