"They're very minor creatures, but they're good at creatin' devastation. That's why they haven't been wiped out yet. Very willing to do the dirty work for bigger bads that'll provide 'em with protection."
"Demons for hire."
"More of a malevolent ghost. They can and do drive people mad. They like whispering. Suggesting. The power of suggestion is very strong. Of course they hadn't been around for centuries and I thought they must have all been dead."
"So they're like a typical ghost?"
"Not really. For one, they step across into this world through a portal opened by the blood of a murdered human. They do absorb minor elements of the person they came out through, so to pass themselves off as normal ghosts if need be."
"Cheery."
"Normal ghosts?"
"A normal ghost. One that just moans and groans and shakes its head despairingly. Most hunters would just leave them be, 'cause they're not doing anything to anyone. But these critters are dangerous. They can do all the typical ghost stuff, plus they can-"
"Possess the dead." Sam said grimly.
"I was about to say that." The Trickster said huffily. "That is, they can possess the dead until warded off with any of the typical ghost-warding things."
"What?"
"You know, ghost warding stuff. Salt. Iron. Silver. Maybe even garlic, I know it makes me break out in spots."
"Right."
"Sam, that thing that attacked me. The scissors were silver-plated."
"Exactly! They can possess the dead, but their abilities in that area are tenuous at best. It only takes the smallest swipe to sever that link between undead and dead."
"So. Can they be killed?"
"Of course."
"And how would one go about doing that?"
"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy." The Trickster waggled a finger at him. "Don't think I would mistake you for being too moral to cross me."
Sam pulled a face and sat back down on the edge of Jo's bed. There was history between these two, history that Sam didn't want to talk about and the Trickster delighted in. "We can just go to the library and look it up, you know."
A Trickster. Jo remembered when she was little and her dad would tell her the most amazing stories about the most amazing creatures. Loki was the most real. He swore and stole and created devastation wherever he went. He was so human.
"Yeah. But then what would happen to Dean?" He said smugly.
The air seemed to freeze. Sam's eyes appeared to get blacker and angrier. "Don't say his name." He said softly. "He died to bring me back and there was nothing I could do to save him. Now there's some demon wandering around out there wearing his face. He's dead."
"No." The Trickster contradicted. "Remember that conceited old bitch I was telling you about? She done a deal, didn't she? Pulled his soul outta Hell. On the condition that he give up being human."
"Give up being human?" Jo echoed incredulously.
"He doesn't feel. Doesn't tire. No jokes, no sympathy, no passion. Now he's just cold logic, endurance, strength and emptiness. She cut away the parts of your brother that separated him from the monster he was always only steps away from becoming. He was dangerous before, but now he's phenomenally lethal. And he serves her. As the captain of her Army of the Damned."
Everything stopped. The ground swung underneath him and he couldn't breathe. Dean, his big brother, was their leader. He was no longer merely human, but an unthinking tool crafted by this Mother. Before now a small part of him hoped that one day he would hear another of Dean's goofy jokes, that they would argue half-teasingly over something unbelievingly insignificant, that he would walk through the door and say it was all a prank.
But now that hope had been smashed into powder.
He grabbed his head, tangling his fingers into his hair. With the stubble on his chin and the scratches on his face, he looked quite mad. "Why," He whispered. "Does this crap always happen to us?!"
But his real question was why me?
Jo reached out hesitantly and gripped his shoulder firmly. "It'll be alright."
"How can you say that? How many people in your family have died for you? Gone to Hell for you? How many of them have come back as demonic chattels?" He snapped at her impatiently.
"My family?" Jo replied coolly, withdrawing her hand as if she'd been burned. "None. That I know of. My dad, his sisters and my mother's brothers were all hunters. And I don't really know what happened to any of them."
Sam hung his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"
"Yes, yes, cutesy bonding moment. But are you going to keep up your end of the bargain?" There was almost a note of panic in the Trickster's voice. "Tell you what, 'cause I like you, I'll also tell you where you can find your merry murderer Dean."
Sam's eyes glinted dangerously. "Why do you think we can do anything about this Mother?"
"Because," He stared at Sam. "She's afraid of you."
He laughed. "Yeah. Right. Spin me another one."
"Alright, perhaps 'afraid' is too stronger word. How about 'wary'? 'Cautious', 'suspicious', 'troubled', 'anxious'. She knows who you are and knows what you're capable of. The vanishing hunters? All of the were potential leaders of some kind. All of them were capable of rallying the pockets of hunters throughout this fair land."
"And what does this have to do with me?"
"Because you fall under the category of 'leader', m'boy. A certain demon made sure of that long ago." Sam unconsciously touched his lips. "Demons made you powerful without realising that you might be the one to bring them down, and now the Mother intends to put right that error. You may have been told you would be a great commander, but the question remains. Commander of which side? Good or evil? And she is not going to take any chances when her significant other died at your family's hands."
Sam's head snapped up and he grimaced. "Are you saying that-? Aw, what a horrible mental picture."
"Be fair. How do you think they get little demons?"
"So you're saying that those two were what? Married? Conveniently intimate? And those psychics the Yellow-eyed Demon was harvesting…" Jo glanced at Sam's shocked face. Wrong word. "Er, recruiting, were for some great master plan and the demon just happened to get knocked off before curfew?"
"I'm thinking that she's learning from her consort's mistakes. He tried to take the Overworld first. The Mother? She's starting down town." He pointed his finger at the ground, as if they didn't get it first time. "Lilith. She's an old fashioned girl, from another time. I can't think of a time when she wasn't there. She might be a lot of things, but she ain't a rookie."
"That's good. Because we aren't either." Sam said flatly.
"Sam?" She recognised his tone. He'd slipped into commando mode, no job too big, and no job too small. "This could all be a-"
"Trick? Yes, it's always a possibility." The Trickster smiled. He straightened himself up. "I see it all now. The Mother, wary of the great hunter Samuel Winchester sends her faithful chaperone to confront the miser and lure him into a false sense of security and lead him away from his companion and partner Joanna Harvelle, whereon fulfilment of said plan springs a trap bringing him face to face with the Lady of Hell herself." He raised his eyebrows.
"Dear girl, if even you could see through it, then it's not much of a plan."
Jo bristled. "Watch it, stumpy."
He turned back to Sam, apparently concluding that he was the brains of the operation and dismissing Jo as the extra muscle. "You in?"
Sam pondered the Trickster's outstretched hand. "What do you think, Jo?"
"You're asking me?"
"You're asking her?"
He ignored the creature. "You said it before. You're my partner now and I'm stuck with you. It works the other way around too. But if you are really going to watch my back, you have to fight with me, not next to me. Got that?" She nodded. "All or nothing. What do you think?"
"Well." Jo said slowly. "From a purely practical point of view, I'd say it made sense to take out this demon who's vying to fill the gap left by the Yellow-eyed one. But if she really is as big and bad as you say," she pointed at the Trickster, who's innocent face was achingly comical. "Then I don't see how we can possibly take her down, just the two of us."
Sam nodded. The same thing had probably occurred to him faster than it occurred to her, but he stubbornly refused to acknowledge the fact that he could not take it alone. "No one else can be trusted."
She sighed and shook her head despairingly. "You use all these different hunters for information all the time. And you don't trust any of them?"
"No." Probably hasn't for years.
"You know that's why so many of us die." She said. "We're killing each other. Soon there'll be no one left to fight. You didn't want me along at first, either. Didn't think you could trust me. Thought you'd make better of it alone."
He was quiet.
"The kid's right." The Trickster conceded reluctantly. Sam looked up.
"She is?"
"I am?"
"They're out there. Waiting for you. You people, you die because you're too damn proud, too busy not looking at the big picture. There's an army out there. Bigger than anything you can possibly image. Creatures you couldn't possibly visualize. They thrive off blood and pain and darkness. The Damned walk and the Queen of Hell has risen."
The duo stared at him. Slowly he looked up at them, and his eyes were wary. Even fearful.
"If you don't stand up to her completely unified, you'll all die and there'll be no one left. The Damned are coming, and a half-mad clairvoyant and his blonde sidekick are hardly gonna slow them up. Buck up, kiddo, you need an army."