Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
A/N: This chapter, just so you know, is one long action sequence. The guys really get to be action heroes in this one, especially Sam (Oliver). I don't know if you guys will enjoy reading it, but I most definitely enjoyed writing it. Please R&R, I could use some feedback. (Remember: flames are more than welcome).
Chapter 8: The Legendary Downtown-Seattle Incident
"What the hell are you doin' here!?" screamed Sam in the middle of slicing the head off a rat.
"I followed you guys here from your apartment," replied Winchester, who was using his shotgun like a club to knock one of the little bastards away. "I had a few things to discuss with you when I saw you and your friends leaving the garage."
Sam tried to hit another soul, missing it by inches. He was about to try again, when something slammed into the back of his legs, sending him flying back to the floor. His back slammed into the hardwood floor, pain flaring out into his body from the point of impact. The crossbow and the machete were knocked from his hands, both weapons skidding away out of reach. He felt something haul itself onto his legs and rush up his body all the way to his face. Sam reached and grabbed a hold onto the creature and flung it away somewhere into the melee. It felt like an eternity before he was able to collect himself together enough to get back to his feet, and he immediately sought out the vessel once he had done so.
Blasts of green energy were being shot out in all directions, but it was hard to figure out exactly what was going on in the darkness and building smoke. It was pouring in from the hallway they had all come from, shrouding everything in its thick haze. Finding their new ally, he yelled out, "so, why did you decide to follow us?"
"Your friends were packing some serious equipment into your car and I thought I would come check out what you were up to," answered the other man, as he cracked the skull of one of the miniature beasts.
Sam spotted his vessel laying on top of a small pile of dead rats and he dove for it, as a green blast whizzed by his head and slammed into something in the background. He snatched up the crossbow and looked for a soul to take down, finding the vague silhouette of one darting by in the shadows. Firing at it reflexively, his shot missed and he was forced to duck down again to avoid getting hit by one of those blasts. By this point, he was shocked that the place was still standing, given how much damage it had taken so far.
The smoke was getting thicker and it was starting to get difficult to breathe in it. He coughed violently and found a soul sneaking up on Ben, who was brutally cutting down a cluster of rats standing on a pile of rubble. Sam scored a direct hit, collecting yet another soul for the Devil. A rat leapt at him, stretching its arms out in a promise of unrestrained violence. Using the vessel like a club as he had seen Winchester do with his shotgun, Sam swung out and struck it in the head, sending the thing flying away into darkness. He stumbled forward, trying to get a bearing on the situation.
"STOP!" screamed out a voice from somewhere above. At once, the rats and the souls stopped what they were doing, silence settling in like an unwelcome guest. The four humans looked up to where the voice had originated from, seeing the stark figure of Edgar Ross standing regally on the balcony upstairs. "I must offer my congratulations to you, Mr. Oliver. You and your companions have done very well in fighting off my children."
"They haven't really put up much of a fight," challenged Sam, feeling confrontational.
He laughed and said,"I like what I see in you, Sam. You're different from the others; you're more like me than you are like them.
"I'm nothing like you!" protested Sam, feeling the heat of anger flushing his face.
"Join me," continued Edgar, ignoring Sam's proclamation, "and we could do so much together, even topple the Dark One himself."
"No, you have nothing I want," responded Sam.
"Very well, I made the gesture."
"But thank you for letting me know where you were; that should make this less complicated." Sam hefted up his vessel and aimed it at Edgar, who ducked down out of sight.
The rats did something strange just then, backing away from the four of them and retreating to the front doors. They piled up against the doors and started pushing at them until they were forced open. The horde spilled out into the night, racing off into the darkness.
"Go after them!" yelled Sam to his friends, as he started looking for a flight of stairs. "Don't let them hurt anyone!" They followed his orders without question, running out the front doors to track down the mob of demonic monsters. The other souls were ascending slowly into the air and following after Edgar, who leapt over a corner of fallen walkway along the side of the hall to an open doorway leading into the renovated wing of the building.
Sam quickly found the stairs up near the front of the assembly hall, leading up through a dark narrow passage. He took them up as quick as possible, not noticing Sam Winchester following him doggedly. Reaching the top, he found himself in the back of the balcony and could see the last of the four souls disappearing into the doorway. With as much energy he could muster, Sam pushed himself forward as fast as he could. He was going to need all that speed to clear the distance to the opening, especially given the awkward angle he was going to have to jump at. The issue was made a little complicated with how unstable this walkway felt under his feet and how unbalanced it made him feel. Arriving at the end of useable floor, Sam crouched down and launched himself off of it, aiming himself toward the doorway. His land was a bit rough, but he not only made it across the expanse he also managed to stay on his feet.
As for Sam Winchester, he reached that same edge just as the remaining supports for that walkway buckled under the weight and stress. He was, in fact, in mid-leap when the walkway broke off from the wall and started collapsing into a makeshift ramp. The dropping floor impacted his jump and he only managed to get his upper body over the side, his lower half forced to dangle from the edge. It was only a matter of seconds for him to haul himself up onto the floor and get back up to his feet. Winchester pulled out his shotgun from his jacket again and continued his pursuit.
Sock and Ben left the church to see the mass of the creatures trying to climb up the tall fence. Sock grinned at Ben and grabbed a Molotov, something he had been pretty much been banned from inside the place. Now that they were outside, he figured that it was alright to use them again. Ben, who most definitely got the hint, graced him with his own smile and pulled out a Molotov. Together, they lit up their fire bombs and lobbed them at the upper portion of the fence, shattering the glass bottles. Liquid flames blossomed out like flowers and rained down upon the climbing rats. The nasty little monsters squealed in agony, as they started to drop back to the ground one-by-one. Sock and Ben threw a couple more molotovs at the fence, getting even more of the dwindling horde. For the first time since they had encountered the brimstone rats, their numbers didn't look so insurmountable. The remaining rats gave up on the fence and ran down the fence line, looking for a way out. Sock sighed in frustration and they continued their pursuit of the hell-bound creations.
Sam raced down the mess of exposed studs and construction supplies, jumping over and dodging to the side of various obstacles in his path. He could see the back end of a soul up ahead, barely visible in the darkness and his wavering flashlight beam. As he was running to catch up to it, Sam caught a bright flash of green in his peripheral vision off somewhere to the right. Without thought, he threw himself into a runner's slide, the beam coming down at an angle and just missing his head. The impact of the light tossed him over onto his stomach, splinters of wood flew all over and he felt a jarring lurch in the floor. Grabbing the crossbow, he forced himself back up and aimed it in the direction the light had come from. Seeing a darting figure, he fired again and missed. Cursing, he started running forward once more, trying to find his target.
Getting close to the end of the hall, he spotted a soul and stopped to aim. Lining his target up, Sam pulled the trigger and nothing happened. Squeezing the trigger again, he cursed when it still didn't do anything. He had run out of ammo and needed to replace the drum. Fortunately, he had already taken the initiative and figured out how to replace an empty drum earlier. Sam pulled out the spent ammo drum and slammed a fresh one in from his belt. Pulling back the bar, he set the first bolt in the chamber and brought the vessel back up in time to see a soul standing there in front of him. Pulling the trigger again, he quietly rejoiced as a bolt flew out and lodged in its gut. The soul was sucked into the crossbow and he turned to see Sam Winchester running up to him. He was about to protest the other man's presence when the guy tackled him to the floor. Another green beam of light sailed by where he had been standing, slamming into a stack of drywall behind him. It exploded into a mess of burning chunks that flew through the air and rained down on the two of them.
Both Sams rolled away from each other and started to get up. Winchester rolled right over next to one of the souls, as another fired off another shot where the two of them had been. The blast shook the support struts below them and they could feel the floor dip down a little. He looked up to see the soul standing before him, charging its odd attack. In truth, he had never seen anything quite like this and he had seen quite a lot in his time. Acting quickly, he swept his foot out and tripped the soul. It fell backward and the beam of green light shot wildly at the ceiling. The beam sheared through several support beams and the ceiling in that area collapsed, crashing noisily to the floor.
The floor buckled underneath them when the ceiling fell and it broke apart. Sam Winchester was taken with it and fell through the hole, smashing into the rubble below. Wood and drywall fell on top of him and the soul hit the floor next to him. For a few all too brief moments, silence immersed everything in its embrace. Groaning in pain, he sat up and saw the soul doing the same thing. He looked around for his shotgun and couldn't find it, evoking a muttered curse from him. The soul was trying to get to its feet and he needed to act quickly. Grabbing the knife from his belt, something he had gotten from Ruby, he reached over and slammed the blade into its gut.
The soul instantly screamed in pain and cracks of red light appeared all over its frame, spreading and widening quickly. It began to burn away, its body being reduced to nothing but embers. When it was all done, he got up, sheathed the knife and dusted himself off. Looking up, he saw Sam Oliver looking down through the hole at him, shock written clearly on his face.
"Are you okay?" he asked him, getting over his surprise.
"I'm fine. I'll find a way up, don't worry about me."
"No, I'll handle this. Find my friends and help them. I get the feeling that they need it."
"Alright, but stay safe. We'll talk later."
"Got it," replied Sam, turning around and trying to get a fix on his prey. With nothing in sight, he started looking through the place randomly. Vessel in hand, he searched the entire wing and found nothing. He was convinced that they had doubled back and went returned to the assembly and was about to head back there himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see an opening in the exterior wall, leading to some sort of walkway along the outside edge of the building.
He rushed out through the opening and found a ladder leading up to the roof off to his left. The sound of sirens could be heard somewhere in the distance, reminding him that there was a good chance that he was going to be in some serious trouble in the near future. Sliding his arm through the bow and string of the crossbow, he climbed up the ladder and stepped onto the roof. Edgar was standing there on the other side of the roof, his remaining two followers standing right next to him. Sam got his vessel and aimed it at the nearest soul, as it was partially blocking Edgar from view. Pulling the trigger, he let a bolt fly out and tag the soul and it was sucked into the vessel. Edgar and the other soul turned to face him and raised their hands to attack. He was about to fire again, but they beat him to the punch and let loose their own attack. The soul fired off the standard green light, but Edgar's attack was much larger. It was green like all the others, but it was much brighter and about three times as wide.
Sam dove to the side and rolled along the rooftop, as the two beams of green light sailed past and hit the building across the street. The explosion that followed shook the entire block and stone, brick, and wood flew everywhere, making him think of pretty much every war movie he had ever seen. Looking over to where his adversaries were, he saw Edgar leaping over the edge and jumping impossibly high and far all the way to the rooftop of the building on the other side of the alleyway. He got up and fired at the other soul and hit it dead on, sucking the damned thing into his weapon. Running over to the edge of the building where the soul had jumped over, he saw him standing on the rooftop waving obnoxiously at him.
Sock and Ben had followed the demonic rats to the far end of the lot, seeing them pour through the open gate. They ran over and passed through the gate, seeing that the padlock had been broken off. The rats wasted no time in causing complete and utter havoc. A small crowd had formed across the street to watch what was happening at the church and the creatures rushed over and started attacking them immediately. Screams and yells broke out amongst the group and everyone scattered in all directions. The scene was pure chaos with random people all over the place, rats clinging to their backs and biting and clawing at them. They immediately ran over and started killing the things, pulling them off the innocent bystanders and stomping, beating, and chopping them to death.
The sounds of small explosions could be heard coming from the church, adding to the cacophony of noise coming from all over. Smoke was starting to billow out from the building and sirens could be heard in the distance, no doubt in response to the incident here. Sock grabbed a rat off the back of a young black kid and threw it on the ground. He stomped his foot on it and the thing squealed in pure agony, so he did it again to shut it up. The rat stopped moving or making any sounds after that and he took his foot off of it. The kid thanked him and ran off into the night, making his escape from this impromptu nightmare.
At some point, that new guy who had joined them in the church, the one that Sam knew from somewhere, had run out and started assisting them in killing the rats. He was good, too, much better than Sock or Ben. The guy was going through these monsters like they were drugs and he was an addict, killing one after the other with machine-like efficiency. Much of the crowd had dispersed, but many still remained, somehow still in the vicinity of the monsters.
A bright green flare of light streaked out across the street from the church's rooftop and smashed into the face of the brick building on the other side. The explosion that followed was incredible, sending debris falling down all over the street and sidewalks. People and rats alike were hit by the falling projectiles, as they hit the ground. Sock, after taking a second to absorb what he had just seen, resumed his job of rat-slaying.
Meanwhile, on the rooftop, Sam could see Edgar taunting him silently from the top of the business he had jumped like a grasshopper onto. His anger boiled over and he knew he wasn't going to just give up and let the asshole go. No, this douchebag needed to be taken down and he needed to be taken down now. It was with that certainty that Sam achieved a measure of clarity: he was going to jump.
Backing away from the edge a respectable distance, Sam braced himself and ran full speed straight for that same edge. Just as he was about to reach the end and fall to his possible death, he folded his body down like a tightly coiled spring and launched himself over the side. The instant his feet left the roof, he could feel that odd tingling sensation that barely registered on his senses, the sensation of his powers at work. The air whipped by him as he leapt the great expanse, his body flying high and far, too high and far for a normal person to accomplish.
It was as he was starting to make his descent that Sam realized that his landing was going to be less than stellar. He was coming at the roof way too fast and at too steep an angle. This may have been a mistake, but at least he wasn't heading straight for the ground. Sam was coming down too fast to even properly brace himself for the impact and all he could do was try to roll his body to reduce injuries. Fortunately, falling was something Sam had gotten quite a bit of experience at in recent times, so he had some clue as to how he was to do that. Still, the impact with the gravel roof jarred his whole body and pain flared out bright and hot, causing him to lose all sense of what was going on temporarily. He rolled along the rooftop several times before he eventually came to a stop, his vessel flying off somewhere when he initially hit ground.
The first thing he was aware of, other than the mind-consuming pain, was the sound of laughter. Cracking open an eye, he saw that Edgar was standing there before him, his arms on his hips and laughter on his lips. Sam groaned in pain and pushed himself to his feet, his movements slow and ginger in an attempt to avoid any extra suffering in the process. When he had gotten to wobbly feet, he stared Edgar in the face, who had quieted down.
"Do you really want to play on my level right now, boy?" asked the escaped soul. "My children were weak and stupid, making for easy targets. It's no wonder how easy it was for you and your compatriots to take them down, but I'm different. Unlike them, I think and feel; I do not reflect whatever is put in front of me like a mirror. They made me powerful, a god made flesh."
"You're fuckin' nuts," wheezed out Sam, trying to catch his breath.
"Perhaps, but that is irrelevant. You see, that's the thing about mirrors, if you reflect light with one it makes it brighter and if you use several mirrors you can blind somebody. Their mindless devotion to me even in the bowels of Hell was all the reflection my light needed to grow bright and powerful. That is what makes a god, isn't it? The power that your worshippers give to you?"
"You're not a god, Edgar, you never were. Do gods run from devils?" challenged Sam.
"What are you talking about?" asked Edgar, sounding confused and a little angry.
"I'm talking about how you had to escape from Hell and His not-so-tender mercy like some kind of refugee. You're a victim, Edgar, and I know all about victimhood."
"I AM NOT A VICTIM!!" screamed Edgar, practically frothing at the mouth in his fury. With a broad sweep of his arm, he sent Sam flying back several feet to land painfully onto his back. "I AM A GOD!!"
Edgar Ross turned his back on Sam and looked down at the street somewhere off to his left, crouching down to jump again. Sam sprang to his feet, ignoring the pain, and stretched out his right hand to where the crossbow lay abandoned on the gravel roof. The vessel flew out into the air and landed obediently in his outstretched hand. Running as fast as he could, Sam followed after Edgar as he leapt off the side of the building. Looping his arm through that space between the bow and the string again, he jumped off the roof blindly, his arms stretched out wide.
Sock, Ben, and the new guy were just finishing up the last of the brimstone rats, when they heard the how loud the sirens were getting. The crowd of people had mostly dispersed, the only ones remaining were those too injured to go anywhere and those who were dead.
The new guy said, "we should get outta here before the police show up. My car's over this way." He gestured over to an alley across the street from the church, which was starting to show visible signs of burning from the outside beyond the smoke. The trio ran for the cover of that alleyway, disappearing into the shadows before the firefighters reached the scene.
Sock spotted a car parked in the alley, its features barely visible in the darkness. He could tell, though, that it was a sweet muscle car, something and old and beautiful. Getting up close to it, he realized that it was an Impala painted black, probably a late 60's model. Grinning, he proclaimed, "shotgun."
"What about Sam?" asked Ben.
"We'll find him," said the stranger. "We can take a loop around the area and see if we can spot him, but we still need to get outta here."
"What's your name?" asked Sock as they were getting in the vehicle, thinking that it was pertinent information to have."
"Name's Sam," said the guy.
"No, Sam's the name of our friend," replied Sock.
"I understand that, but it's also my name."
"Really?" asked Ben disbelievingly from the back seat.
Looking back at him, Sam Winchester said, "really."
He started the car and they pulled slowly out of the alleyway onto a side street. Turning left, they began their trip around the immediate area, looking out for Sam and the authorities. They pulled up to the intersection with the intent to make a left turn when a semi flew by headed right, veering wildly out of control with somebody crouched down on the roof of the trailer.
"Was that Sammy?" asked Sock to no one in particular. Winchester immediately turned right instead and followed after the semi.
Sam Oliver noticed that it was a semi that Edgar had chosen to drop down on. He was already on the roof of the cab, denting it severely. Reaching out with his mind, he cushioned his landing and hit rather softly on the trailer. Of course, it wasn't so soft for the truck, as the roof had been dented in like Edgar's landing. The truck veered around in the streets wildly in response to this and Edgar was reaching down over the side of the cab. Sam wanted to ready his vessel and get the son of a bitch, but it was taking all his concentration to keep himself on the truck and not fly off of it onto the street.
Edgar reached down and opened the driver's side door and pulled out the driver, throwing him violently out of the truck. He swung down over the side to occupy the wheel. The truck started lurching around even more wildly in an obvious attempt to launch Sam off the roof. It took everything he had to stay where he was and not let go. His powers went a long way in keeping that from happening, but he needed to do better. The truck veered around the corner to the right and started to speed up on the new road.
Sam had managed to find something to grip onto, relieving his mind of some of the responsibility of staying where he was. This allowed him to form better grips in the bent metal roof, using his powers to twist the steel into some sturdy hand and footholds. With that done, he was able to concentrate on the street ahead and prepare himself better for what was to come.
The truck smashed into a series of cars parked along the side of the road, a bright shower of sparks flying up in the air in response. Cars on the road were dodging to the side as it careened from lane to lane, some of them smashing into each other and flipping over onto their sides. One car even launched upward over the roof of another car and flipped over a few times, before smashing to the ground somewhere behind him.
Sam Winchester was doing everything he could to keep control of the car and follow the truck, which was driving more and more dangerously. It was smashing into cars and trucks and forcing some to smash into each other. Several vehicles started piling up on the left hand side, their frames twisting and lighting up in impressive displays of sparks. A Chevy Nova launched over the roof of a small hatch back and flipped over three times before it crashed into the street in his way. He maneuvered the Impala around it to the right, driving on the sidewalk to avoid it. His car smashed through a series of parking meters, hundreds of quarters spraying out everywhere. Sock whooped and hollered in obvious excitement, cheering him on. Swerving the car back into the street, he barely missed a lamp post.
"That was fuckin' awesome!" yelled Sock, his voice hitched with breathlessness.
He ignored the exclamation, opting to concentrate on the truck in front of them. It took a right turn all of the sudden, heading uphill. The entire right side of the semi lifted up off of the ground, threatening to roll it onto its side, before the wheels crashed back down on the street violently, sparks flying up from the wheel well. It lurched forward slowly, trying to build up steam in the face of gravity.
Fortunately, this road seemed to be devoid of any traffic for the time being and there were fewer innocents to harm. The truck still careened from side to side, Sam's body visibly straining to hold on up there. He wanted to get up closer to catch him on his hood if he fell off, but it was too dangerous to get up that close. It was frustrating that there was nothing he could do, except follow behind and hope that an opportunity to help arose somewhere along the way.
Sam Oliver was holding on with a vice grip and praying desperately to God to not let him die. He knew that if it weren't for his powers, he would've been thrown off this thing a long time ago. The bubble he had formed around himself to keep him rooted to the truck had the beneficial side effect of keeping the wind out of his eyes, allowing him to see what was coming. This new street headed uphill was thankfully empty of other cars, giving him a little breathing room. The truck was coming upon another intersection and showed no signs of slowing down in the slightest, leading him to hope that Edgar wasn't going to attempt another turn.
As they were speeding through the intersection, a pickup truck crossed their path from left to right. It smashed into the front left-corner of the semi, spinning around it to hit the broad side of the truck. The impact was violent and came close to knocking him off, his body slamming back down painfully onto the trailer roof. They continued past the new hunk of wreckage and plowed uphill again, heedless of the danger to anyone else. He had to get closer to Edgar, had to put a stop to this. Using his abilities, Sam focused on the surface of the trailer roof and started making more handholds, forcing deep grooves into the steel. It was incredibly hard to do and his head was beginning to hurt. A trickle of blood made its way out his nose, dribbling over his lips and dropping onto the trailer.
After he had made a few more of them leading up to the front of the truck, He reached out and grabbed onto the closest one and used it to pull his body forward. The truck was slammed against the side of a bank of parked cars along the side of the street, coming close to knocking him over the side of the trailer, his body swinging out at an awkward angle, one of his hands losing its grip. He was now dangling off the side of the vehicle, holding onto it with one hand. They were coming up to the next intersection and he could feel the truck slowing down a little, making him nervous.
When the truck reached the intersection it turned wide to the left and then veered drastically to the right. The truck lurched on its frame and teetered on its wheels, before tipping over. Sam knew that if he stayed where he was he would fall off and be crushed by the truck, so he braced himself against the side of the trailer and pushed off with his mind. His abilities acted exactly like a bubble and he bounced off of it, flying out through the air. The truck smashed down on its side and began sliding on the asphalt following him. He hit the ground and his mental bubble caused him to bounce off, before he lost his concentration and it dissipated. Sam, now unprotected by his shield, went flying through a store window and his frame slammed into a display case, taking it with him to the floor.
Winchester and Sam's friends saw Sam be flung over the side, where he remained dangling precariously. He was about to try to pull up to him, so they could get him to safety, when the truck turned wildly at the next intersection. Sam left their sight when the semi began its turn and the vehicle lifted up again on its right side, sending the whole thing on its left side. The truck smashed down on the street and started sliding forward, rotating slowly. Trucks and cars from all other sides started smashing into it and each other, forming another pile up. Winchester, seeing this, spun the wheel hard to the right, saying to his passengers, "hold on tight."
Sock and Ben wordlessly followed his directions and gripped their seats tightly, bracing for what was to come next. The Impala went right through the corner of the storefront and came out the other side into the next street. He slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel, trying to avoid oncoming traffic. They barely managed to avoid hitting the side of a work van and got in the proper lane, where he slowed the car to a stop.
Sam groaned in pain and sat up, feeling every scrape and cut in the process. Somehow, the crossbow had stayed looped around his arm and he let it slide off, before grabbing it. Standing up, he felt the glass that was covering his body slide off and fall to the floor. He looked over to the street and saw the truck burst into flames when a truck slammed into it, almost knocking him off his feet. Looking down at himself, he saw that his entire left arm was coated in blood, the sleeve of his jacket hanging parctically by a thread. Gingerly stepping over the display stand, broken fragments of glass crunching under his shoes, he stepped out of the store and back outside. Miniscule droplets of rain could be felt on his skin and he staggered over to the carnage, vessel gripped tightly in hand.
People were screaming and crying, yelling orders at each other and running around in a frenzy. The flames were licking up the side of the charred wreckage of the truck, the heat of it felt like a furnace on his face. Movement could be detected coming from the cab of the semi and a figure leapt out of it, landing somewhere out of view on the other side. Sighing in frustration, he hobbled around the massive pile up, looking for his target. His whole body seemed to be coated in his own blood and smeared grime. Walking around the burning wreck, which had come to a stop rather close to the street corner, he spotted Edgar standing behind a car that had been pushed up the hood of another.
Another vehicle burst into flames somewhere to his right, startling him momentarily. In that second, Edgar turned his way and spotted him, smiling dangerously. Sam raised his vessel and fired off a bolt. The remaining soul ducked down, before springing back up and firing off a quick shot of his own. A narrow beam of green light streaked past him and hit the corner of the building behind, exploding impressively. Chunks of concrete rained down on his head and he was almost knocked off his feet. Edgar took the opportunity to run off, heading away from Sam's position.
Sam pursued him, his speed hampered by his many injuries, trying to keep an eye on him at all times. He tried firing another bolt, but it went wide and Edgar continued unharmed. Sirens could be heard all over the city, obviously in response to this disaster. A part of Sam felt a hopeless guilt at the knowledge that he was at least partially responsible for all this suffering. A crowd of bewildered bystanders were watching this chase with slack jaws and wide eyes.
"I'm not letting you get away this time, Edgar!" he called out, putting the last of his energy into a burst of speed. He started running, seeing that Edgar had gotten himself together physically and was no longer moving at a snail's pace. The soul ducked behind a car and he continued to run up, hoping to catch up to him before he made his move.
Edgar responded with, "I don't know about that, Sam. You see, if you capture me, my children will be forced to just kill the one you love so dearly."
Sam was forced to stop in his tracks, asking, "what the hell are you talking about?"
"The only thing is," continued the soul, ignoring Sam's question, "I can't remember if I ordered them to take your girl or that precious little boy of yours."
"You're lying," said Sam, his voice grave and serious as death. "I got all of your little followers; it's just you now."
"You sure you counted your kills right, boy? I think you're missing a couple, but you just ignore all that and come get me."
"I'll fuckin' kill you!" screamed Sam, fear and fury rising like a tide within him.
"Oh, one more thing," said the soul, his voice light and cheery. "To answer your question from earlier, I didn't run from the Devil; your master let me go willingly."
Sam was so shocked at what the soul had claimed, that he failed to do anything when he sprang up to his feet and raised his arm up and to the right across the street, his target something Sam hadn't realized had been there at all; it was the monorail track and one of the cars was coming down it right then. He had just enough time to say, "oh fuck," before Edgar let loose a large green blast that slammed straight into a support pillar.
The concrete pillar crumbled apart in the following explosion, sending the track above to swing down at an angle facing the street. A thick cloud of dust filled the air, where it mixed with the smoke from the fires. He could see the monorail car reach the end of the track, its brake screeching loudly. It sailed over the edge, slamming into the broken hunk of track leaning against the structure. The car was forced out at the angle of the track, crashing into the street and sliding along the asphalt to the mess of wrecked cars in the intersection.
Sam dove out of the way, as the massive construct scraped past him at an incredible speed, sparks flying up everywhere and stinging his face and arms. It slammed into the burning mound of twisted steel, sounding like a bomb had gone off. He covered his head with his arms and waited it out, his eardrums about to burst at the ungodly sound of it tearing through all those vehicles. It seemed to go on forever, before it finally came to a stop somewhere behind him. Sam gave himself another few seconds, before he got up to his feet with the crossbow in his hands.
It was chaos everywhere, burning hunks of steel and chunks of concrete littering the street all over. In truth, it looked like a war zone with people covered in dust and grime stumbling about in shock and terror like lost children or refugees. Edgar had disappeared, having used that last act of destruction as a cover for his escape. The sirens were loud and close, located somewhere beyond where the monorail car had ended up, this side of hell devoid of any signs of authority for the time being. He spotted his friends and that guy, Sam Winchester, heading over in his direction, looking about as shocked as he felt.
Shaking off the cloud in his mind, he staggered over to his friends and thought of what Edgar had said about his girlfriend and his baby boy. The fear of the possibility that he had been telling the truth gripped him hard and refused to let him go. He had to get back home and make sure they were okay and he had to do that now.
"Guys," he said when they got in range of each other, "We need to get back to the apartment now, it was a trap."