Chapter 6

"Our enemy, the Devil, roams around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour. We will be firm in our faith and resist him", Charleston bellowed and built himself up in front of the altar. His hand reached for a small object lying beside the open book; a weapon?

Sam could feel his heart pound forcefully against his chest, as he was pushed down on his knees by the spirits. One of them grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to look up at Charleston who gazed back with utter contempt in his eyes. Now Sam could see that his hands played with a small dagger with a golden hilt and a polished, silvery blade. Silver, or iron? Sam couldn't help but think about the effect an iron weapon had on ghosts – and the fact that he was a spirit himself right now.

Charleston seemed to recognise Sam's fearful look, because the tiniest hint of a complacent smile showed on his lips as he knelt down in front of him and whispered in his ear, so faint that Sam had trouble understanding the words: "I know who you are."

At first, Sam thought that he must have misunderstood. After all, that raving lunatic had just brought in quote after quote about Sam's satanic nature, so it was pretty obvious that he regarded Sam as Lucifer. But then the reverend continued, prompting Sam to gasp in surprise "You are not the first hunter to try and stop me from saving these souls from damnation." Sam needed a second to process this new information, giving Charleston the chance to go on: "And you are not the first one to atone bitterly for this heresy."

Various thoughts were chasing each other inside Sam's brain, spanning from a whirlwind of theories on what could have taken place here the last 200 years to an utter lack of understanding. After having witnessed the reverend's commanding influence over the spirits inside the church, he had expected him to be behind this, but certainly not out of Christian love and the wish to save them from hell. A thirst for power and insanity stemming from being burnt alive had been his first suggestions. "Let me get this straight", he answered with a voice as firm as possible. "You're keeping all these souls from passing on because you're trying to help them?"

Charleston's green eyes were filled by a deep sincerity when he answered Sam's question: "They were pursuing the way of Satan. I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands."

Suddenly, his swirling thoughts made sense and Sam understood. What had happened was cruel and terrible, but unfortunately it made sense. "You... you were the maniac who burnt down the church?", he exclaimed, horrified by the mere thought of what Charleston had done to keep these souls imprisoned inside the church.

"It was necessary", the young reverend answered almost softly. "Had they just died, their sins would have dragged them down to hell, keeping them imprisoned in flames and torment for all eternity without any chance at redemption. I gave them a new chance!"

"By murdering a whole village?", Sam shot back furiously, "By trapping and torturing innocent hikers?"

Apparently, Charleston was not impressed. "Someone like you, a hunter, a man far from God, wouldn't understand", he muttered. "They had become slaves of their own deadly sins. All of these souls guided by lust, greed, envy, and worse. All of them destined for hell. I am no murderer, I am a saviour! A saint! I sacrificed my own soul to save them!"

"You're nothing but an insane, cold-blooded killer!", Sam spat, trying desperately to free himself from the two spirits before Charleston could take his misconceived understanding of justice out on the young hunter. Unfortunately, they were too strong and the reverend too determined to make him pay. The iron dagger was dashed forward, cutting deep into Sam's cheek and leaving a searingly hot wound that felt as if it was trying to burn its way through his skull. Sam winced, but somehow managed not to cry out. Catching his breath, he went on: "You have their blood on your hands!" He gave Charleston a defiant look as the reverend was about to raise his dagger once again, doing his best not to show how much his first attack had hurt. "And you're most certainly no saint!"

At this, he could feel how the vicelike grip of the spirit to his left, the one that had dug its fingers into his hair, all of a sudden loosened slightly. Not wanting to waste this chance, Sam threw himself forward, mustering what was left of his strength and hurling himself against Charleston's knees. The spirits didn't release him fully, but he succeeded in freeing his left arm and bowling the reverend over at the same time. Charleston gasped in surprise as his body crashed down on the stone floor and the iron weapon slipped from his hand. Sam didn't even think, his reflexes just took over. Dragging the two spirits with him, he reached down and closed his fingers around the hilt of the dagger, driving the blade up and towards the reverend in one swift, dexterous motion. A loud howl echoed through the church as the cold metal found its way through Charleston's spirit body and left a dark red streak on his face. For the first time since Sam had entered Jocassee Church, he could see the spirits move on their own; nothing more than a faint wave that rolled through row after row of souls, but enough to show Sam that they still were quite aware of what was happening around them, even after 200 years of imprisonment.

He didn't stop his attack to take a closer look at them, though. Again, he brought the dagger down upon Charleston, this time aiming for his heart. Unfortunately, the reverend seemed to have some excellent reflexes himself as he proved only a second later. He dodged Sam's offensive, scrambled to his feet and made another one of his gestures, more frantic this time, that would set his minions on Sam. In a last, desperate attempt to bring Charleston down, Sam used the dagger on the two spirits holding him, feeling a deep pain himself at their anguished wails. As expected, they let go of him and withdrew to a far corner of the church, while the other spirits left their places and moved slowly towards him. The reverend didn't stay to find out, whether his servants would succeed. Something like fear flickering in his eyes, he headed for the staircase behind the altar and had almost reached it, when Sam jumped at him from behind. Bringing them both down on the ground, he tried to drive the tip of the blade into Charleston's back, but was surprised by his opponent's sudden counter attack. Somehow, the reverend managed to shove himself off the floor, turn around and kick Sam off in the same movement, catapulting him back with a strength Sam hadn't thought possible of the rather fragile looking man. The force of the attack made him skid a few metres across the floor, until he smashed headfirst into the wooden altar, resulting in an ocean of sparkling stars before his eyes. He must have passed out just for a few seconds, because the next thing he perceived was Charleston standing menacingly above him, the dagger in his hand. "Do not underestimate the power of the Lord, servant of Hell!", he barked, blood dripping from the wound in his face that stretched from his forehead diagonally down to his cheek. "You have no strength inside the House of God!"

Two spirits, not the same as before, seized Sam and pulled him up. For a heartbeat, the stars returned, making him feel too dizzy to put up resistance this time. Obeying another one of Charleston's commands, they dragged him in front of the tall crucifix positioned behind the altar, forced him to turn around and shoved his back so violently against the perpendicular pole that he, still under the influence of the blow against his head, had to fight for breath for a few seconds; just enough time for Charleston's minions to grab his arms, stretch them out and press them against the sides of the cross. Once again, Charleston lifted his arms, this time to make a strange spiralling movement with his right hand, giving Sam just enough time to think: This is bad, really bad, before he felt something wind itself around his feet and his legs. No doubt the Devil's bit.Slowly, the flower crawled up his torso, found its way to the sides of the crucifix and bound his outstretched arms and hands tightly to the wood.

Once the reverend seemed to be sure that Sam wasn't a threat anymore, he commanded the two spirits to take their place amongst the others, lowered his arms, stepped in front of the altar and faced his flock. "Do not fear!", he roared, "You have been blessed by this gift, been given a chance to redeem yourself!"

Not one of the spirits reacted to Charleston's words, though Sam clearly could see the fear in Peter and Kathy's eyes. He wondered what they had had to endure since they had entered the reverend's death trap, what they had heard and seen since that fateful night. Don't worry, he tried to tell them with an encouraging look that almost required more hope and mental strength than he had left. Help is on the way. He didn't know whether Dean even had heard his words or, in case he had, whether he would interpret them correctly, but seeing as he (his spirit, anyways) was bound to a cross inside a gigantic spirit circle there wasn't much more left than hope. Dean had gotten him out of worse situations, he tried to quiet himself down, he would find a solution. He always did.

Looking back at the reverend, Sam could see him move back to the other side of the altar. As he stepped onto one of the large stone tiles, it shook almost impercebtibly, catching Sam's eye. It was nearly impossible to see, but the tile seemed to be seperated from the others by a thin dark line, and in one of the corners, Sam discovered a tiny opening, maybe large enough to stick one, maybe two slim fingers into it. A trap door? Sam remembered one of his sources claiming that Charleston had made some changes concerning the church, but he hadn't time to think more about his finding, as the reverend's next movements demanded his complete attention. He seemed to prepare another spell by using both the book and the basin filled with ... blood? Sam followed his actions thoroughly, trying to make head or tail of this particular kind of ritual. At first, Charleston dipped his finger into the dark liquid and drew a double-lined circle around the cross, followed by a double-lined pentagram inside it with the crucifix' perpendicular pole in the middle. Then he began writing Latin names and various symbols between the lines; obviously he was trying to secure Sam's spirit additionally through a Key of Solomon. Unless... "Wait a second...", he whispered when he discovered what distinguished this pentagram from the original pentacle. The names were supposed to be divine, the names of God and the like, but instead he recognised names of various demons and different terms for "Satan". Suddenly, the unholy circle outside the ruins made a lot more sense, Sam thought. Loud he said: "An invert Key of Solomon? You gotta be kidding me!" He hadn't expected any answer at all, but Charleston chuckled silently at his words and answered quietly: "I had to give my soul to save them. Alas, like this I was unable to make use of the original pentagram."

The history of this place was growing more crazy by the minute, Sam thought, completely gobsmacked. "You sold your soul to the devil?"

"Once my task is fulfilled, Hell is what awaits me. A sacrifice I am more than willing to make", the reverend answered cryptically, but by now Sam was pretty sure that his first idea about Charleston's remains being buried somewhere inside the ruins had been correct. Something had anchored him to this church, something much stronger than a satanic spirit circle. That something just had to be his corpse. Or at least a part of it. The trap door behind the altar came to his mind again, but he hadn't time to dwell on the thought and in his current position he couldn't have done anything about it anyways. "You, however", Charleston went on, "will be thrown back into the fire, creature of darkness."

Sam gulped nervously and sent a silent prayer to Dean. Come on, bro!

"This man", the reverend said while turning around to face his flock, "as fearful as he may appear, is merely a poor soul possessed by a servant of Lucifer." He made his way through the rows of spirits, walking with resolute steps towards the archway. "You, my sons and daughters, have been blessed with a chance at redemption. I will drive the demon from this body before the eyes of God, bringing all of you closer to Him."

Slightly confused, Sam gazed after the reverend. He had expected him to use the knife on him, piercing it right through his heart as he would have done, but obviously, he had other plans with him. Charleston disappeared shortly behind the veil on the other side of the church, while Sam grew more nervous by the second, his body remembering too well how painful his last two encounters with the reverend's means of torture had been.

Sadly, his fears proved to be quite understated.