Demons and Dementors

Chapter Two

Lizzie clambered into the backseat of Dean's 1967 Chevy Impala, while nervously smoothing her dark red hair.

"You okay, there, Liz?" asked Dean as he climbed into the driver's seat. Lizzie nodded. Dean turned on the ignition as the Impala's engine roared into life as it sped down the highway.

After only ten minutes, they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. Lizzie, Sam, and Dean got out of the Impala, Lizzie smoothing her hair again, and straightened the wrinkles out of her pinstriped blazer before following Dean and Sam into the front lobby.

Sam and Dean held their heads high with confidence as they walked up to the reception desk. A woman with curly red hair, and squared-framed spectacles was gazing down at an open folder on the desktop.

Sam cleared his throat lightly as the woman looked up. "Yes?" she asked, somewhat coolly. "May I help you?" "I'm Special Agent Lee, this is Special Agents Jones and Blaszczak," said Dean, holding up his FBI badge as Lizzie and Sam followed suit. "Can you please direct us to the psychiatric ward?" asked Lizzie politely, while smiling.

The receptionist sighed impatiently. "Just follow the signs," she said, irritably.

"Thank you!" said Lizzie brightly as she took Sam's hand and led him to the nearest elevator as Dean followed. "Let me see, let me see…" Lizzie muttered as she scanned the hospital directory. "Here it is!" she said after a moment. "Psychiatric ward – seventh floor – the people we need to interview should be there!" "Awesome!" said Dean as he pushed the button to the upper floor. There was a ding! and the doors to the elevator slid open as Lizzie, Sam, and Dean walked inside, and Lizzie pressed the button with a bold number 7 on it as the doors to the elevator closed and the feeling of the elevator going up could be felt.

After only a few moments, the elevator stopped and the doors to the elevators slid open and Sam, who was holding Lizzie's hand, along with Dean walked out of the elevator. Nearly everything was white in color. Lizzie winced as she looked up into the fluorescent lighting – Lizzie had always hated fluorescent lights.

"Did the newspaper say the name of the first victim?" asked Dean in Lizzie's ear. "Um, Vickie Rodriguez I think," said Lizzie as she took a wrinkled newspaper clipping out of her purse, and smoothing it out between her hands.

"She's in room 401A," she said as she gazed at one of the signs on the wall. One of them read: Rooms 350 – 500

Lizzie walked along the corridor to the right with Sam and Dean followed her. Finally they came to the right room as they walked inside.

A woman with dark brown hair that was pulled up into a high ponytail and was wearing a white T-shirt and white pants sat on the bed reading a book. She looked up as Lizzie, Sam, and Dean walked into the room. "Yes?" she asked. "Vickie Rodriguez?" Lizzie asked properly. Vickie shrugged. "Who wants to know?" she asked. Lizzie took out her FBI badge and showed it to Vickie. "I'm Special Agent, Lizzie Blaszczak, this is Special Agent Jones and Lee. We need to ask you a few questions."

Vickie frowned as she turned back to her book. "I already went over it with police!" she said, sounding like she just wanted to forget about her experience and move on. "This won't take long," said Sam, reassuringly as Vickie stared up from her book again. "Can I see your badges again?" she asked.

Lizzie, Sam, and Dean nodded as they showed her their badges. "Now, then, Vickie," said Lizzie as she pulled up a chair and sat in front of Vickie. "When did you have this encounter?"

"Um, I can't really remember," said Vickie. "Tell me what you can remember then," said Lizzie using a tone of voice that a person would associate when talking to a survivor of some violent crime.

"I had just come out of the supermarket, and I was loading my groceries into my car, when the air turned cold – like freezing, middle-of-winter kind of cold, you know?" she asked as Lizzie nodded "Go on," she said gently.

"Well, pretty soon, my hands became so numb that I dropped my keys, and all of a sudden, I began to see horrible things – and…." "What kind of things?" asked Dean.

Vickie shook her head, as if she could not explain it properly. "And then?" asked Lizzie, still maintaining a gentle tone of voice. "And then, I felt…." She put a hand to her heart as she spoke. "Horrible…" Vickie whispered. "Cold…Really cold…."

Sam and Dean stared at each other with bewildered expressions on their faces. But Lizzie was still gazing intensely at Vickie, nodding sympathetically. "And then what?" she asked gently. "Felt…As if….as if…."

"As if you'd never be happy again?" Lizzie asked, a look of realization crossing her face. Dean and Sam stared at Lizzie after she had spoken. Vickie nodded as tears spilled down her face and onto the cover of the book she was still holding in her hands.

After a moment, Lizzie got up. "Thank you for your time," said Lizzie as Vickie nodded as Lizzie, Sam, and Dean left the room.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNS PN

Outside in the hall, Sam and Dean were still staring bewildered at Lizzie. "I think I know what we're dealing with," Lizzie said seriously. "What?" asked Sam and Dean together as Lizzie walked into the nearest elevator as Sam and Dean followed her.

Lizzie did not explain her epiphany to them until they were back in their hotel room. "Will you please tell us what's going on, Lizzie?" asked Dean impatiently as Lizzie rummaged around in her rucksack that she had brought with her, and pulled out a book. Panting slightly, Lizzie walked over to a table and dropped the book onto the tabletop with a semi-loud THUD, as she sat down and began flicking vigorously through the book's pages.

Sam and Dean kept quiet until Lizzie had found what she was looking for.

"I know what we're up against," Lizzie repeated, as she pointed to a picture in the book. It featured what appeared to be a cloaked figure, a single hand protruding from the folds of its cloak. Its face could not be seen, for it was hidden beneath the hood of the creature's cloak.

Lizzie gestured toward the picture again. "Dementors," she said.

Both Sam and Dean looked just as bewildered as they had back at the hospital.

"What?" asked Sam and Dean in unison. "Dementors," Lizzie repeated. "They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban."

Sam and Dean were looking even more confused now. They had never battled such creatures as these – let alone heard of them!

Lizzie sighed. "Of course you wouldn't know what they are. In a nutshell, Dementors are amongst the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places. They glory in decay and despair. They drain peace, hope and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence. "

"That explains the big headline about it in the paper," said Den as Lizzie nodded. "Although they cannot see them," "That explains why that Vickie girl at the hospital said she couldn't see anything," said Sam as Lizzie nodded again. "Get too near a dementor, and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. They are basically depression, but in a physical form.

Sam was scrutinizing the illustration of the Dementor in the book. "What's under a Dementor's hood?" he asked curiously.

Lizzie stared at him. She had a strange expression on her face, like she would give anything not to tell him the horrible truth.

"The people who do know are in no condition to speak about it," she said. "However, the Dementor only lowers its hood to use its last and worst weapon."

"What's that?" asked Dean. "It's called the 'Dementor's Kiss,'" said Lizzie as she repressed a shudder with extreme difficulty. "It's what Dementors do when they wish to destroy utterly. I guess there must be a mouth under there, somewhere, because they clamp their jaw to the mouth of their victim, and they…." Lizzie swallowed hard. "They suck out the person's soul.

Both Sam and Dean stared at her, looks of horror etched upon their faces. "They kill?" asked Dean. Lizzie gave him a small smile as she shook her head. "Oh, no!" she said. "It's worse – much worse than that! You can exist without your soul - you know, as long as your brain and heart are still functioning normally - But you'll have no sense of self anymore. No memory, no – anything. There is no chance of every recovering. You'll just exist as an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever….lost."

Lizzie's eyes sparkled with tears as she dabbed them away using the sleeve of her blouse, her mascara, eyeliner and a bit of eye shadow smearing on her face.

For a long while the three of them sat there, not speaking. It seemed like hours had passed when Dean finally broke the silence. "So!" he said, clapping his hands together as he stood up. "How do we gank these sons of bitches?" Lizzie put a hand on Dean's shoulder smiling sadly. "I don't think you can," she said. "As far as I can tell, Dementors can't be killed." Dean was looking frustrated and disappointed. "However," said Lizzie. "There are certain defenses a person can use,"

Both Sam and Dean's faces lit up at hearing this. "What sort of defenses?" asked Dean. "Can you teach us?" asked Sam happily. Lizzie's smile grew. "Sure!" she said. "I'd be happy to! But first thing's first," she said. "We need to get you guys wands!"

Sam and Dean's excited expressions faded. They weren't expecting this.

"Wands?" asked Dean. Lizzie smiled "Yes, Dean," she said. "Wands. Rock salt, and holy water won't protect you in this case – Especially since you can't even see the Dementors!" Dean sighed. He knew Lizzie was right.

"We'll go tomorrow, then!" said Lizzie happily. "Go? Go where?" asked Sam "Diagon Alley!" said Lizzie. "Best place to go for all things magical! Plus, an old friend of mine, George Weasley runs a joke shop there!"

And so they all agreed that they would go to Diagon Alley the following day. Lizzie went to bed that night, hoping that she could help Dean and Sam before they fell victim to the Dementors themselves.

To Be Continued!