Jo and Sam got out of the car, half a block from the bank. Sam put on his dark glasses and pulled a cap low over his face. "Let's go say hello."
Jo walked up to the police barricade. They were still assessing how a masked gunman had somehow walked up and through the crowed street and into the foyer, somehow managing not to trip the security.
"I spy with my little eye."
"Yeah." Sam pulled the collar of his coat up further.
"Joanna!" Jo looked up. Gabriel Forsyth looked up from conversing with a policewoman, smiled at her and waved her under the police tape. "Come through."
"Hey."
"Hi. I didn't think you'd be back this way."
"Yeah. My friend… Tom here was in a hunting accident and I had to go make sure he had cleaned himself up properly. No offence, but men and hygiene…"
"None taken. Hunting accident. Sounds painful." He turned his attention to Sam.
"Sounds worse than it is." Sam lent forward and shook his hand. "Joanna wanted to know if you'd found anything. How did the guy get in?"
"Disabled the alarm." A big, burly officer joined Gabriel. "Not spilling secrets to the civvies, Forsyth?"
"No sir." He looked awkward. Jo took the initiative and stuck out her hand.
"Joanna Harvelle."
"Sheriff Brown." His large paw dwarfed her smaller hand. "You're the Scissors Girl."
Sam snorted.
"Scissors Girl?" Jo asked, aghast.
"That's what the press are calling you, girlie. The whole city's abuzz with you right now." Sheriff Brown nodded. "Not bad for a civvie."
"But I killed him."
"Yeah. And if he lived he would have sued you. It's a messed up world we live in. The good always get kicked when they're down."
"Aren't you a little cynical for this job?" Sam asked, clearly amused.
"I'm the son of a cop, raised by a cop, and been a cop for thirty years. Maybe I don't like it, but it's all I know how to do."
"Amen." Sam held out his hand. "Tom." And from then on Jo began to notice something extremely odd. Odder than usual. The two cops suddenly became immensely agreeable.
"Tom and Joanna. I know everyone in these parts, but I don't believe I've ever seen you before."
"We're new." Jo said.
"Well, welcome to town, Miss Harvelle." He chuckled. Jo watched him as he walked away. She glanced at Sam. His serene smile was beginning to freak her out a bit.
"So, what about the dead guy? What have you got on him?" Sam turned his attention back to Gabriel. And there was definitely something more than unusual going on. There was a slight ringing in her ears and all the worry lines were smoothed from Gabriel Forsyth's face.
"John Doe." He replied. "No one's seen him before, no one's reported him missing."
"That was quick." Jo remarked.
"This isn't the nineties." The cop replied. "And…"
"What?" Sam asked.
"I'm not even sure I should tell you this."
"Sure you can." And Jo realised what it was. It was the super-freaky Jedi mind trick that a lot of the psychics she'd ever met had going on. And she decided then and there that she was never going to get on the wrong side of Sam Winchester.
"This guy, forensics gave him the run down. The scissors didn't kill him."
"Then what did?"
"Probably the head trauma he sustained."
"But I didn't whack him on the head!"
"Our boys, they swear that this guy was killed by a blow to the head. Fractured the skull. He's even on record at the morgue. Our John Doe has been dead for two weeks."
It watched upside-down as the window was levered open and the female shimmied through the gap, dropping lightly to the ground. She was followed by a larger male, who had to twist himself repeatedly to avoid getting stuck in the window frame.
"City morgue. We hang out at all the neat spots, don't we?"
"Shh."
It watched as they crossed the floor to the body of the dead vessel. They were strong; it could feel it. They were the ones that the captain wanted. The captain was right; they had come to the call of the unknown.
It let go of the air duct, dropping silently to the ground. Neither of the humans moved, for it could not be seen with human eyes. It was a creature of this dimension but also beyond it, it's physical form existing somewhere else.
After this job is done I shall be an Underdemon no longer. Craning up, he looked at the male. This one would provide a challenge. Reaching up one thin, wraithlike finger, he touched the male's wrist.
Sam flinched, jerking his arm away.
Jo jumped too. "Don't DO that!" She hissed.
Sam rubbed at his wrist. "Must've twisted it during our last hunt. It'll be good."
"Great. 'Cause I'm not in the mood for any of your Alison Dubois, ghost-whispering, 'I see dead people' crap."
The Underdemon let out a low, keening noise, cradling his injured claw. The male. There was a talisman hanging around his neck on a length of cord. And it had burnt him. A warning not to try again, or it would be consumed.
But now he was angry. Hissing, he reached up to the man. There was magic that he seemed unaware of, sorcery that protected him that tasted unfamiliar to the creature.
And more. It was like the protection that the Mother awarded to her favourites, but different. Perverted.
"Can you hear that?"
"Not funny, Sam."
It looked at the female. She was smaller, but not weaker. She would stand in the way to defend her companion, this male that she had staked a claim on. She would have to be removed. The captain was right in his assumption that these two had become firm partners in their quest against all they deemed evil.
However, she did not possess that what the Mother wanted. But the boy had brushed against the gates of death before being pulled back. He knew death and did not fear it. He was the business of death and he dealt in it regularly . And that made him a powerful enemy.
It jumped up on a cabinet to be by the man's shoulder, this person Death and Fate had marked as one of their own. Craning down, it whispered into his ear. Do you fear death, Samuel Winchester? It comes for you like a dog after a bone, ripping and tearing. It will find you and drag you screaming down into the pit.
Sam's face pinched. He was suddenly feeling uneasy, though he had no idea why.
You will fight the End Game alone, deserted by your allies. Even she will abandon you to your fate. Demons have marked you out, and Death is eager to collect his dues.
"Sam, are you alright?"
"I-" Suddenly his head was being torn apart. He was vaguely aware of his legs folding up underneath him as the beasts leapt out of the fire to tear at his flesh and bones. He screamed and more of the creatures laughed, faceless people with emptiness at their core. The Damned jeered and taunted at his suffering, as once was done to them.
Legions of demons clashed in a blaze of sparks and blood, the raging battle becoming all consuming. One soldier could not be told from another, so they cut down their companions and superiors alike, not knowing the difference. Finally the victorious army began to chant one word over and over. Lilith. Lilith. Lilith.
Among the debris he saw Death stalking toward him, wickedly curved blade held aloft, and then… And then all was quiet. Sam was lying on grass. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees.
"Choose the Mother and you may be spared this suffering. Choose the Mother and be reunited with your brother, the captain of my glorious Legion of the Damned. And together, you will quash those in the name of the Mother."
He looked up. Before him was a woman so beautiful that she put all others he had ever seen to shame. She was so… bewitching. And it wasn't right. "Who are you?"
"I am your friend. But should you spurn me I shall become your enemy. I know all about you, Sam Winchester." She raised her head. Sam felt sick as her eyes began to glow a horribly familiar colour.
Yellow.
Do you fear death?
His eyes snapped open and he began gulping down air like a dying man. The smell of sulphur still stung the inside of his nose and made his eyes water, though the air here, while stale, was clear.
Jo was looking down at him, which meant he must have been flat out on the floor. She frowned at him. "Who's Lilith?"
Sam was going to respond, knew he should respond, but all he could think was Ragnarok. End Game. Final Battle. We're all going to die.
The invisible creature scampered up into the air vents once more, satisfied for the moment that its work was done. Even though the talisman prevented him from physically harming the male; a glimpse into the world of the Kings of Hell would surely drive him mad. Mad enough to distract him from his purpose.
This creature had once been in the service of a very powerful Demon Lord, and it had watched as his lord and the lord's most influential children perished at the hands of this family. They were dangerous. Very dangerous. That was why he had been warned not to openly approach them.
And now he had seen the boy that his old master had been so obsessed with. He was shockingly powerful, and if he could learn how to harness that power he would make a terrible warrior, the likes that had not been seen since the Slayers War.
The old lord was right when he said that this man would be a great leader. What remained to be seen was whether he would be the great leader of the demon horde.
Or of the men that resisted them.