After they were sure of the safety of their bones – there was no place safer than Bobby's panic room, Sam thought – and the threat of Acham finding and burning them was, for now, gone, Sam and Dean returned to the cabin in Michigan and spent an entire day making holy water blessed by the rosary Cas had given to them. Cas hadn't been specific on how much they would need exactly, if just a splash would do the trick or if they needed to soak Acham in it, so they prepared for the latter. Better to be safe than sorry, Sam thought as he filled yet another gallon jug full of the deadly weapon.
"This is stupid." He said as he and Dean carried another batch of water into the cabin. "We can't bring all these jugs with us when we go find Acham."
"Perks of being a ghost, Sammy." Dean said as he hoisted his jug onto the counter where a mess of filled gallons already covered just about every inch of the surface. "If we need more, we can zap back here and grab some and then zap back to the fight before Acham even knows we left."
Dean was right. Sam looked around the kitchen. "Yeah." He said. "But don't you think we have enough? We should be figuring out Acham's next move."
Dean also took a good look around the kitchen and nodded his agreement. "I suppose this will do the trick."
Outside, the sun was just starting to set through the trees. "Library?" Sam asked.
"Sounds like a plan." Dean agreed.
Dean found himself, once again, in a dark library searching through recent newspapers for reports of electrical storms around the country, and it occurred to him that he was doing more research as a hunter-ghost than he ever had when he was alive. He never liked the research part of the job; that had always been Sam's area of expertise. He sighed and discarded another newspaper onto the ever-growing pile next to him. Sam looked up from the computer as Dean reached for the next paper.
"Something wrong?" He asked.
"No." Dean said. "Just want to kill this s-o-b."
Sam pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded once. "We will." He said confidently.
Almost an hour passed in silence before Sam spoke up again.
"Here we go."
Dean leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. Though he couldn't feel it now, he was sure that sitting hunched over the desk for the past couple hours would have made his muscles sore if he were alive. "Please tell me you got something."
"Basically the same thing as Limon." Sam confirmed. "Lightning struck a church in Rockport, Arkansas, and it's closed for business until they do some repairs. You think it's Acham?"
"Sounds like." Dean clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's get there."
It was hard to forget the colossal failure of the last time they had tracked Acham to an innocent town. The only difference Sam and Dean had made by being there was giving Acham a heads up on the weapon that they now possessed to kill him with. Now, as they walked down a quiet street in Rockport, Arkansas, all Sam could think about was Limon, and all the people who were killed for what seemed like no point at all. No matter how hard he tried, Sam couldn't come up with an explanation as to why Acham was targeting these towns, or what he was getting out of it. It made him nervous though – as they walked through the town, passing shops with neon signs and houses with brightly lit windows – that Acham's next strike could come at any moment, and any one of the people inside these buildings could be dead in a matter of seconds.
"We have to find him before anything happens." Sam said. They paused on a corner next to a bakery and Dean glared at the building suspiciously. They were both on edge, just waiting for the inevitable.
"Yeah." Dean grunted his agreement and turned to peer warily across the street. "Keep your eyes open."
Two entire days passed in Rockport, and Sam started to think that the whole lightning striking the church incident was just a freak coincidence. The repairs were almost done anyway, and if the church had anything to do with it – and Sam was more than confident that it did – then whatever Acham was planning needed to happen soon or not at all.
"You know, it could be an airplane crash." Dean said, frowning at the sky. Acham had already played that card, and there was no reason to suspect that he wouldn't do it again. "We wouldn't be able to see that one coming until it was on top of us... literally."
Sam followed Dean's gaze upward. A few soft, white clouds spotted an otherwise blue sky. He imagined an airplane falling to the earth, streaking the sky with fire and smoke. He imagined the massive explosion as the plane crashed into the bank they were sitting in front of, or the school down the street. He could see the people screaming, the fire. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.
"Let's hope it's not." He said.
Sam was apprehensive and on edge after two days of waiting, and he could tell that Dean's nerves were frayed as well, both of them jumping at the smallest sign of danger; the bang of an old engine backfiring, a child's scream as she's chased around the swing set by a classmate. It was getting ridiculous, and Sam was ready for the fight.
He didn't have to wait much longer.
It was early morning on the third day when they rounded a corner and Sam came to an abrupt stop. Dean stopped, too, and turned to give Sam a concerned look.
"What?" He asked.
Sam nodded forward, eyes locked on a point behind Dean, and Dean spun around to follow Sam's gaze. There, across the street, standing in front of an old, brick factory, smiling at them, stood Acham. Sam knew the moment Dean saw Acham because his whole body tensed and his hands clenched into fists.
Acham waved, and then the building exploded.
"No!" Sam shouted, darting forward.
"Sam!" Dean called after him, following his brother across the street toward the burning factory.
People were already making their way out of surrounding buildings to investigate the noise. Some of them were screaming, some were on their cell phones, some were running away from the fire, and some were running toward it. Sam was aware of Dean following close behind him, shouting his name, but all he could see was Acham. The demon was standing at the edge of the fire with one hand outstretched in front of him, examining his fingernails like he was simply waiting for Sam to reach him and was completely bored with the task.
As Sam closed in on Acham, he reached in his back pocket and pulled out a small, silver flask of holy water. Dean shouted his name again. Acham grinned. Maybe, if Sam had been in the presence of mind to think things over first, he would have realized that something was wrong. Acham knew about the rosary. He knew that they wouldn't have come to find him again unless they had learned how to use it, but he wasn't afraid of Sam running toward him with the flask. As it was, Sam wasn't thinking of any of that. The only thought in his mind was revenge. Revenge for all the people Acham had killed in the past year, himself and Dean included. Kill the demon. Get revenge.
A few more strides and Sam began screwing off the top of the flask. His plan was simple. Get to Acham, throw on the holy water. If it wasn't enough, surely it would at least be distraction enough to buy him a couple seconds to get to the cabin and get some more. Suddenly though, two men stepped out of the fire on either side of Acham, eyes flashing black. They reached out for Sam with strong, unyielding arms and caught him before he could reach their boss. Caught off guard by the sudden jolt, Sam lost his grip on the flask and it clattered harmlessly to the ground, spilling onto the pavement.
Sam cursed and struggled against the demons' hold, but they were unmovable, and Sam's attempts to break free were getting him nowhere.
"Why are you doing this?" Sam demanded as Acham stepped closer.
Dean was there now and one of the demons holding Sam automatically let go and grabbed onto Dean. The other demon easily compensated for the loss of support, and Sam wasn't any closer to breaking free. They were both trapped.
"You were going to try and kill me." Acham said with a frown. "You didn't think I was going to just stand back and let you do it, did you?"
"I mean that." Sam tossed his head toward the flaming building. "The explosions and the plane crashes and the murders. What's the point?"
"Well, for one, it's fun." Acham answered. He smirked and circled Sam, running his fingers over Sam's shoulder as if examining him. "But I suppose that's not really the reason. I thought you would have had it figured out by now, Sam. You're supposed to be the smart one, aren't you?"
"Sam." Dean's voice came from behind, sharp and warning. Sam tried to turn his head, but the demon holding him jerked him violently and he stumbled forward before being pulled upright again.
"It's the souls." Acham said, stopping his circling to look Sam in the eye. "It's always about the souls, and there are power in numbers."
"You're taking their souls?"
"That's right." Acham said, beaming like he had just taught Sam a new trick that he had been working long and hard on perfecting. "I'm building an army. The next apocalypse will soon be upon us, and with an army of fresh souls, I can't lose."
"You can't just steal people's souls." Dean said from behind. "Not everyone is going to Hell."
"That is correct, Dean." Acham said, turning his attention behind Sam. "And unfortunate. See, I don't have the time to wait around for the number of souls I need to just die. Well, time, yes. Patience, no. So I had to come here and push a few in the right direction. Convince them that maybe Hell isn't the worst thing that could happen to them."
"You're making deals?" Sam said incredulously. "You get their soul and what do they get in return, an early death?"
"The key is in the timing." Acham said, holding up a finger and stepping backwards toward the factory.
He snapped his fingers and the world stopped. Behind Acham, the flames of the building were frozen in the air. People who had been running a second ago, screaming, were now still as statues. Acham walked up to a man who was laying on the ground. Before Acham had frozen time, the man had been on fire, his leg pinned beneath a heavy wooden board, his face contorted in pain. Acham touched him and he came back to life, his screams filling the otherwise quiet streets. Acham touched the man again and his screams stopped, though he remained on fire. He looked up at Acham with terrified, pleading eyes.
"Help me." He begged.
"I will help you." Acham said. "But I need something in return."
"Anything." The man said.
"You're going to die. I can save you from the pain, all I need is your soul."
The man's eyes widened.
"Don't do it!" Sam shouted, but Acham raised a hand and Sam's voice was gone. He could do nothing but watch as the scene played out in front of him.
"I... I cant... I don't..." The man stammered.
"You have a choice, of course." Acham said. "If you refuse, you will continue to burn until the end of your life, and you will feel every second of it." He almost sounded sympathetic.
The man's eyes welled with tears. "But my family." He choked.
"I'm sorry." Acham said. "I need a decision."
The man swallowed quickly as his panic rose, memories of the fire still fresh in his mind. "I'll do it."
Acham smiled and touched the man for a third time and he turned back into a statue. Acham turned to face Sam and Dean, and the invisible restraints on Sam's vocal chords disappeared.
"It's that simple."
"They can't all say yes." Sam felt sick.
"Of course not." Acham waved a hand dismissively. "You win some, you lose some. But you'd be surprised at how many do say yes. You would be shocked at just how many are willing to spend an eternity in Hell in order to be spared a few seconds of pain on Earth."
"We won't let you get away with this." Sam spat.
"Ah, yes." Acham said cheerfully. "Which brings us to our next order of business." He took a step closer to Sam, rubbing his hands together.
"What are you doing?" Dean demanded. "Leave him alone!"
"It was a setback, I admit, to find that your angel friend put a protection sigil on you to stop me from killing you." Acham said. "You would have gone to Purgatory most likely, and unfortunately I have no jurisdiction there. However, being the new, unofficial king of hell, I am perfectly capable of claiming what is rightfully mine. Now you, Dean, I can't do anything about. But you, Sam." Acham reached for Sam's forehead, palm out. "Your soul belongs to Hell, Sam. And that's where it should be."
Acham touched Sam's forehead and Sam flinched away from the heat of it. Distantly, Sam could hear Dean yelling his name, but then it was gone, and all that remained was fire.
Thanks for reading!
How about that season 7 promo? Man, I cannot wait.
