SUPERNATURAL

THE PARCAEX RITUAL

Note – Chapter 5, up and away. Thanks for reading, and please Review =)

Chapter Five

'I can't do it.'

Bobby frowned at him, sitting with his back leaning against the couch and staring blankly at the Manuscripts in Sam's hands silently.

'If we can't leave the house, then we won't be able to find the resources we need to decipher these codes.'

Sam passed the scripts down to Bobby, who nodded to show he understood and began to examine the pages, as if probing the depths of his mind in the hope of finding some long-repressed knowledge that could possibly help their situation.

Finally he spoke. 'I have no idea,' he said. 'But there's got to be something here… anything that could help us.'

Sam shrugged, not so sure.

'Your dads journal?' Bobby asked, 'Did you search through there?'

'Yes,' Sam nodded, picking it up, 'In fact, I found a hell of a lot on Estonian legends, ancient mythology and a few brief lines on Lucifer – just nothing that could help us with the Manuscript. But there was this small entry on April 9th 1993:

'"Yellow-eyes is probably the toughest Demon I've ever tracked. He leaves no trace of his whereabouts that I could find – even Ash couldn't locate him exactly. Although I know he doesn't carry it with him, I know he is keeping it safe, and it must be found quickly."'

'And he didn't mention what "it" actually was?'

Sam shook his head. 'Nope. I guess he just didn't want us interfering with his search when he left us the journal to find.'

Bobby laughed. 'Always the same, he was; the go-after-it-alone type. He knew that if you boys had found out, you'd be on his tail in seconds.'

'Yeah, yeah, I get it,' Sam replied, 'He didn't want us getting ourselves hurt. How old does he think we are? We've seen a hell of a lot of things in our time, and he knows it. Why doesn't he trust us?'

Bobby sighed, 'It's not that he doesn't trust you boys. You have no idea how important this is – it's no routine job. He knew that one day you would be ready to face this, but back then he knew you just weren't prepared yet. Now, we need to figure out a way out.'

'There isn't any way-' Sam paused. 'What was that?'

Straining their ears, the two of them held their silence, listening intently. Sam began to relax again, assuming that it was just the paranoia kicking in - when he heard it once more, and Bobby did too; a faint wail, as if someone were crying, and the source was somewhere inside the house.

Sam gasped.

They weren't alone.

In an instant the two of them had risen, pocketed a vial of Holy Water each and wielded two iron crowbars as they stepped cautiously forwards into the kitchen, searching for the sound's source.

Signaling with brief hand-gestures, they proceeded through into the dining room, looking in every cupboard, and under every piece of furniture.

Bobby pointed to the staircase, then to himself. 'You check the bedrooms down the hall,' he whispered, before ascending to the top floor.

Sam nodded in agreement and immediately fixated his ears on hearing the cries again.

He was led into the smallest bedroom, stepping slowly inside, his crowbar raised in anticipation of an attack. He saw nothing there at first, but as he stepped further into the room and the sobbing became clearer, he spotted the large cupboard to his left and approached it slowly.

Opening the door, Sam relaxed his weapon and crouched down beside a small child, who lay curled up in the corner with her head in her arms. She looked up at him with one bleary eye, blinking slowly at his face. Her cheeks were lined with faint salty trickles, a shadowy mark of past tears that had fallen from her sleepless eyes.

Sam reached out to her, but the child pulled herself further into the corner and continued sobbing. Sam flicked his fingers and small droplets of water flew from their tips, landing on the small child. She flinched slightly at the sharp movement in his hand, but the liquid had no effect at all.

Holy water, Sam thought to himself, if this is no Demon… then what's she doing here?

Her voice shook, petrified just at the sight of him. Sam reached out again and she drew back, pressing herself firmly against the wall.

'Hey, hey! Sshh. It's okay,' Sam whispered, 'I'm not going to hurt you; I promise.'

Immediately her shaking ceased and she looked up, easing the sobs in trust. Bobby appeared at the door, and Sam quickly shook his head, signaling for him not to come in.

'What's your name?' Sam asked politely.

'Lily,' she whimpered.

Sam stared for a moment at the crying girl, wondrous at the ironic coincidence in her name. He didn't have long to dwell on this notion, for Lily began to stand, her legs clearly shaking phenomenally.

'What are you doing here?' Sam asked her, leading her out of the cupboard.

'I l-live… h-here,' she whimpered, wincing at the light of sunset streaming in through the window.

She wouldn't say much more than that, and Sam suspected that she was just tired. Bobby beckoned her out and into the living room where they had been sitting before. She sat down on the couch and stared continuously at the blank TV, her face void of any emotion.

It was an odd transition.

Bobby surveyed the girl from his position, and then quietly gestured for Sam to follow him. Once they were out of earshot of Lily, Bobby whispered seriously, 'How do we know she's not a Demon, Sam?'

'Bobby, I sprayed her with holy water, and she didn't have the slightest reaction.'

'But Lilith was immune to it, remember?'

'What else are we going to do?' Sam growled. 'Throw her out? If she is Lilith, there's no way we'd be able to do that without her trying to stop us, and probably being killed in the process. And if she is actually just a helpless little girl, the Demons would devour her. We have no choice here.'

Bobby scowled. 'And if it was Lilith, she'd have thought of that – crazy, not stupid.' He sighed. 'We can't trust her just yet.'

'I'm not saying we trust her-'

'Think about it, Sam,' Bobby interrupted, 'She's the only person we've seen since we arrived in Kansas, and she just happens to be in this house? Surrounded by Demons?'

Sam shrugged, 'These things happen, Bobby.'

'Not to us they don't. Coincidences never happen with us.'

'I know, and we'll just have to be careful. Bobby, give her a chance – she may not be what you think. And if she's not, she wouldn't deserve this treatment.'

Bobby considered this. 'Fine. But she must be watched – all the time.'

'Fine.'

In agreement, the two of them re-entered the dining room.

'Hey, HEY! No! Don't touch those,' Sam raced over and snatched the Manuscripts from her fingers and placed them back in the box, taking it into his care.

For something of such immense value, we sure know how to take care of it, he thought.

'These are very important,' he explained, passing them off to Bobby. 'Please don't touch them.'

Lily didn't argue, – actually, she didn't show any sign that she had heard them at all – but looked as if she would drop to sleep at any moment, and Sam offered to take her up to one of the bedrooms where she could do just that.

She shook her head, and continued to sit in her silence.

The last rays of sunlight penetrated the world before the sun set and darkness was thrust upon them. Collected from the upstairs bedrooms, they set up a camp in the living room complete with pillows and thin blankets. Lily agreed to sleep on the lounge, and settle down whilst Sam and Bobby checked once more that the house was completely Demon-proof - knowing that this, at least, was paranoia. Even without every window, door and slightest crack completely bound by Ansazi symbols, the house was still protected by the countless and powerful rituals that radiated from the walls. If they felt unsafe in there, then there was nowhere they possibly wouldn't.

Both Sam and Bobby were extremely tired, and their bodies were hardly willing to stay conscious much longer. But to be safe, Sam was set as the night watchman for the first shift, and would wake Bobby in another four hours when it was his turn.

'They have churches in Hell?'

The sheer concept of it amazed Dean.

'Like I said before, this is just a replica of the real world; of course they're going to have churches. But these ones are neither hallowed nor sacred in any way – so don't waste your time; your precious god isn't going to hear you. Nothing here is as it seems.'

The two of them had been walking through the darkness for hours, stumbling through the forests behind the Devils Gates blindly before emerging at one of the churches to which the devils trap railways came to a point. After a quick search they decided that it was safe and set them up for the night.

'So, this place,' Dean began, resting his sore back up against a wall and looking up at Bela, 'It knows everything that ever has and ever will happen in the real world, and can just play things back to you at anytime it wants?'

'Pretty much,' she answered. 'But they tend to choose the worst memories and future events, to keep the target living in fear – it's all part of their long-term goal.'

'Long-term goal…?'

'Uh, the becoming a Demon part?'

'Oh,' Dean realised. 'Sorry… forgot.'

'You really are an idiot, sometimes. Believe me, the longer you stay here, the worse it becomes. This is only the beginning. It takes a long time to become a Demon, and many phases of punishment and cruelty. They were all once people, broken down and tortured for thousands of years in here. Whether you like it or not, this will be your fate, as it will be mine. It's just up to you how long you postpone it for. Though, it will be much more painful the longer you- aargh!'

Bela clutched at her head and slipped to her knees.

Instantly Dean was alert, pulling himself to his feet. 'What-'

Without warning, Bela leapt across the room and grabbed Dean by the arm – and for the second time that night Dean felt the floor drop out from beneath him and they fell downwards into darkness.

****

They hit the ground clumsily, Dean having the wind knocked out of him and – pushing Bela off of him – stood up to examine their surroundings. He scowled. 'Does this place do anything else? I swear… can't they let me rest in peace for more than ten minutes?'

'Dean, you'll wish this happened every ten minutes compared to what you'll feel later on.'

'Thanks – that makes me feel much better,' he replied sourly, catching his breath in the process. 'Where are we?'

They stood on the edge of an old road, in the middle of nowhere. The night was cold and wet, rain pouring from the thick clouds that hung above them, and nobody in sight.

'Bela?'

He turned, a questioning look on his face, but stopped instantly when he saw that she had tears in her eyes.

She bowed her head, tears falling from her cheeks and splashing into the grass beneath her feet. A curious thought struck Dean, and – looking up the highway, he thought about the night Bela had doomed herself, by striking a deal to murder her own parents.

They had died in a car crash.

'Why did you hate your parents?' he asked curiously.

Bela wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up into Dean's. 'My childhood was a nightmare,' she began. 'You wouldn't understand, but my parents… they were cruel people. They abused me, raped me, hit me, and when I looked into their eyes I knew that they never loved me. I was an accident; a mistake. They had never wanted a daughter, and they let me know it every day for fourteen years.

'I became independent at the age of six. I did absolutely everything for myself. To get to school I had to walk seven miles down the road, or order a cab. Since I didn't have any money, I could rarely do the latter. My parents had a lot of spare time, because neither of them worked – they even had their own personal limo driver, but forbid him to drive me.

'They forbid him?'

Bela nodded. 'But he did drive me – on many occasions, - and my parents never found out. I was extremely grateful of him. But then, when I turned twelve and had finished primary school, they took me home and for the next two years I was like a prisoner within my own house. I slaved away, working so hard for their affection, but it never came. I cried myself to sleep every night, and feared every minute of every waking moment. They despised me then, just as they always had.

'I knew what I had to do, but I just wasn't strong enough. If you didn't get the right idea, I was being quite literal when I said 'prisoner'; escape was impossible. They hated me, but still made sure I stayed, just so that they could watch me suffer. But I waited, and a week after I turned fourteen, my chance came.'

'And you made a deal,' Dean nodded.

'Yes. I don't know where she came from, but appeared beside me on the swing-set, and offered me a very tempting deal.

'"I can take care of them for you," was what she said, "And it won't cost you anything. For ten whole years."'

'I accepted, thinking that it was all just a false hope, that there just wasn't really a possibility of it happening. But that night I had returned home to find the Police parked out the front. I knew exactly what had happened, but I couldn't confront them and face what I'd done, so I'd crept in through the backyard, packed a few supplies, took some money and set off on my own. I then ditched the name my parents had given me, and that's the way I liked it.'

Dean couldn't think of anything to say. If anybody had deserved what they had gotten, it had been Bela's parents. Not that it wasn't unthinkable to do such a thing to your own parents, he thought; but it was understandable in her position. He felt deep sympathy towards her – something he had never thought would ever be possible.

A loud grumble of an engine roared in the distance. 'I never knew what exactly had happened tot them,' Bela continued. 'All I'd heard was that it had been a car crash, and the brakes had been – allegedly - cut.

'I didn't know,' she whispered, allowing her tears to flow freely and gulping. 'Until now.'

The car came into clearer view; it's headlights ablaze and – seemingly - in total control. It sped down the road towards them, and, looking above the car, Dean saw it. Thick, black smoke rose through the night, an eclipse against the moon, and fell through the roof of the car.

It was over in a matter of seconds. Instantly, the car had lost all control and veered off to the right, leaving the road at a violent eighty kilometres per hour. With a sickening crunch, the car slammed into a tree, which became coated in a rich layer of blood and jagged pieces of broken windscreen.

They would have died instantly.

After another few moments of staring, Dean and Bela saw the black smoke erupt from the rooftop once more and disappear, camouflaged in the deep night sky. Bela simply stood there, here eyes wide with shock and horribly shaken, realising that this even had been her own fault. This was the reason that she was in Hell; because she'd sold her soul to murder her parents.

'I understand what you went through,' Dean sympathised, 'Considering what they did to you, you were right to put an end to it. But in the end, Bela, was it really worth it?'

She shook her head and her cheeks became flooded with repressed guilt once more. But the pity wasn't for her parents – it was pity for herself. Dean felt it too.

The two of them looked across the road again, and saw that the car had disappeared. The vision was already over, and they were stuck in the middle nowhere, gasping for air in the freezing cold.

'Well,' Dean said, shivering, 'I guess we're walking.'

The possibility of, and urge to, sleep utterly devoured Sam, and in the end he found that he simply couldn't cope with it.

Convincing himself that there was no possibility that a demon could - or could have – entered the house with all the enchantments that his father had placed upon it, Sam drifted off into bliss in calm reassurance.

Though their sleeping was usually light with paranoia, neither Sam nor Bobby heard the soft chanting that echoed through the house while they slept – both oblivious to everything that took place while they slept.

Lily stood upon the first step, her lips moving faster than possible for a human being – so quick that the words weren't audible, and it was more like a hum. When she had finished, she took a knife from her pocket and scratched at the floorboards near the front door, destroying any and all Devils Traps and Ansazi symbols that she managed to find.

It seems that she wasn't trustworthy after all.

Sam rolled over in his sleep, waking for the smallest fraction of a second when he hit his left ankle on the side of the couch. This was just enough for him to hear the feint scratching, and in two seconds he was up on his feet again and alert.

His eyes darted to the couch, and when he realised Lily wasn't there he followed the scratching sounds to the front door. He sprinted towards the little girl in an attempt to stop her, but fell back instantly when his body crashed into a large forcefeild blocking his path.

'No!' he yelled, 'Bobby, help!'

But it was too late. Lily turned to Sam, smiling menacingly at him, her eyes shining a pearly white.

'Lilith.' Sam whispered.

She stepped to the side, revealing what she had done. She'd destroyed the Devils trap, and broken each and every Ansazi symbol etched into the doorframe - and Sam doubted that the rituals that had bound the house would be effective anymore; it seemed that Lily - Lilith - had cancelled them out with her own.

Sam gasped, realising that he, Bobby and the Manuscripts were now completely exposed.

And the Demons knew it.

Sam started sprinting. He ran into the lounge, where Bobby had already collected the Manuscripts and headed towards the staircase. The front door burst from its' hinges and crashed to the floor beneath a stampede of hungry Demons. Bobby followed at Sam's heels as they ran, throwing holy water behind him with every step – but they didn't manage to get far.

The last thing that Sam remembered was a searing hot pain shooting down his spinal cord and falling into complete and utter darkness.

Dean and Bela strolled slowly down the empty roads, cold, wet and exhausted - both emotionally and physically. They just kept moving in the hope that they would find somewhere to sleep for the night anytime soon.

'If this place is so full of dangerous people, then why haven't we come across any yet?' Dean asked, looking for a way to get his mind off the exhaustion.

'Because in here it's like one circular food chain,' she explained, 'For each being in here there is another much more powerful than the last. They don't prowl across the streets looking for someone to prey upon – no, most of the inhabitants of Hell have hidden themselves somewhere just as we are doing. They don't want to be seen just as much as us. But when the people in here are constantly being transported to random locations, it's sometimes hard to keep out of one another's way. It's a constant fight for survival, and it's almost as if this place deliberately sets up the creatures in a position where the only choice is to fight.'

'But how do you win – or lose - a fight if nobody can die?' Dean frowned.

Bela sighed. 'There are many things that are worse than death, and the only-'

'Oh, come on,' Dean groaned, 'Quit getting all philosophical on me already. I get it – I just wish you'd give me a straight and understandable answer for once.'

'There is no other answer I can give.'

I can't put up with this for eternity, Dean thought. This can't just be the end of it.

'So, Bela, you've just accepted that you're going to be stuck here for another thousand years – tortured and beaten into insanity? You haven't even considered the possibility that there might be some way to escape?'

Bela turned and scowled at him, stopping in her tracks. 'Dean, how many times to I have to tell you that there is no way out before your thick skull will actually understand? Even Lucifer himself couldn't escape from here just by willing it. I'm telling you that there is no possible way. Unless by some chance the Devils Gates open again and you manage to fight off Satan himself and regain your soul, then you're never leaving this place again.

'You will have to face it sooner or later – and sooner is preferable; let me tell you now. Dean, you will never see your brother again, and that's a fact. I'm not trying to screw with your head, - this place has its ways of doing that without my help – but you can't keep on going with this false hope of escaping. It just isn't going to happen.'

Dean shook his head. 'You're wrong, Bela.'

'Dean, you… aargh. You're so stubborn! You just never know when to give up.'

'Tell me something I don't know.'

'Dean, persistence is useless here. On the outside world, you use it to get through the day, to complete your "job". But in Hell, there is no possible way out, and so persistence is useless. It works on Earth because the task at hand always has a possibility of being complete, just depending on how hard you work for it determines whether you succeed or not.'

'What's your point?'

Bela rolled her eyes. 'That if you try something stupid, the consequences you suffer will be a hundred times worse than anything you've witnessed so far. They'll take you away… they'll trap you exactly where you were before – strung up by those chains of flesh-eating metal.'

Dean gulped. The true terror of what this place could unleash was astonishing, and could hit people right where it hurt them most. Among Dean's thoughts and processes, a thought struck him. 'And…' he croaked, 'is that where my dad is being held?'

After all, he had tried to escape, hadn't he? Dean cursed himself; don't think like that… he can't be…

'Yes,' Bela whispered, looking down at her shoes.

Dean's stomach dropped. 'But he'll be let go? He'll get out of there eventually… won't he?'

'Right there is another fine example of your false hope. God may be forgiving but his evil counterpart is not so much. Not only is holding John Winchester within squeezing distance an example of Lucifer's wrath, but it pleases many of the other souls down here to know that your father is suffering.'

Dean went quiet, his fears confirmed, and the loud crashing of thunder echoed around them to emphasise the moment.

'Like I said,' Bela went on. 'You're going to do yourself nothing but pain if you try to escape.'

Sam moaned and cringed at his headache as he slipped back into consciousness.

He tried to move his arm; to reach up and grasp the site of his pain, but found that his limbs were completely bound. Squinting beside him, he suddenly realised that he was strapped to some kind of oversize tombstone.

Of course, he sneered. What could be more dramatic?

'Sam?' A voice croaked. 'Sam, it's Bobby. You alive there?'

Opening his eyes, Sam turned to the side and was thrilled to see a familiar face. The only downside was that Bobby was also strung on a tombstone.

Okay, I was wrong. That's pretty damn dramatic.

The realisation of helplessness was kicking in.

'What's happening?'

Bobby nudged his head forwards, gesturing. 'Take a look for yourself.'

His eyes were horribly adjusted, blurred and burning in the icy breeze, but there became no mistake in his mind that there was no way they would be getting out of this scene unscarred. Sam may have been immune to Lilith's mind tricks, but he held no resistance against solid chaining.

They had barely seen a soul since they had arrived in Kansas, so nobody of any help knew where they were – and Sam doubted that Lilith would let them walk free this time around.

They were strung up in the old cemetery that beheld the Devils Gates – the scene of their victorious victory over Azazel; a moment that Sam would never forget. Not only because of the fulfillment of their twenty-four-year-long-vendetta, but for being given the opportunity to have one last, proper goodbye to their father.

Lilith – now possessing the morsel of a woman around her thirties – stood in the very center of the cemetery, facing the Devils Gates and holding before her what was clearly – and it sent a sickening cold down Sam's body – the Ancient Manuscripts of Vanatuhi.

On Sam's other side, his brother was also strung up on an abnormally large grave-marker, though Sam had no idea why he would need the bonds. Just looking upon his brothers deceased body, ten days rotten and still stained with blood; the remnants of his encounter with the Hell Hounds still clearly visible – not to mention horribly malodorous.

He was disgusted to be looking upon Dean from such a close angle, but he tried to keep himself strong. 'Bobby,' he wheezed, 'why do they have Dean's body if not for the Parcaex Ritual?'

Bobby bowed his head. 'It's not part of the ritual itself, but a sacrificial tradition given to Lucifer as…well, let's say a gift,' he sighed. 'They mean for him to be a tribute.'

'Lucifer's going to eat him?'

Bobby nodded. 'And we've got to stop it – or there will be no hope for him. Without his body, Dean can never come back to this world. That is, until he becomes a Demon of course.'

Sam gulped. 'There has to be something we can do to stop this.'

Bobby tried to move his arms. 'Hardly. I guess we'll wait and see - but I'd be betting on the other horse on this one.'

'Why do they need us, though?'

'They don't, really. I figure we're not extremely popular with their kind, you know… doing what we do. This way, we stop getting in their way and Lucifer doesn't starve for another day. Dean's just the appetizer here; we're a three-course meal.'

'Indeed. Lucifer has one big stomach.'

Sam looked up to see Lilith approaching him, grinning madly as she pulled her face up so close to his own that he could count the freckles on her nose. 'So, dear Sam – remember the last time we met?'

'How could I forget?' He snarled.

'Oh? Not very happy to see me, I take it. Well I see how it's going to be. I don't know how to say it Sam, but there's something very curious about you.'

'Oh yeah?'

'Oh, yeah,' she assured him. 'What I want to know is how my powers had no effect over you at all – when they had worked perfectly find five minutes before that. Was it some adrenaline rush of your not-so-keen psychic ability? Your brother had just died, so it's an accountable explanation – but I'm thinking it's something more.'

'I was just as surprised as you were.'

'Sure you were, Hun.'

'I don't know,' Sam swore, staring right into her eyes.

'Don't lie to me,' she whispered, her nostrils flaring.

'It's the truth,' Sam stated. 'I. Don't. Know.'

'Don't lie to me!' her voice echoed throughout the graveyard menacingly. 'You're the first person that my powers have ever been ineffective against. And I want to know why!'

Sam said nothing, and just stared at her defiantly.

Lilith glared at him. 'I'm personally going to enjoy watching Lucifer peel the flesh from your bones,' she laughed coldly, 'piece by piece.'

She backed away slowly; her eyes piercing Sam's like needles, staring him down into oblivion. She finally turned from him and faced the Devils Gates, looking upon them with a gleam in her eyes.

Holding the Manuscripts out in front of her, Lilith spoke seven words in Latin, pointing her palm at the pages. 'I precor Vanatuhi, vetus regus of des barathrum.'

Sam understood this well enough to mean, "I invoke Vanatuhi, ancient lord of the underworld." And he knew that whatever she'd just done wouldn't be good for them.

To Sam's utter amazement, the inscriptions engraved upon the Manuscript disappeared, and were instantly replaced by a language even he could read.

Or maybe it would be.

Smiling contentedly, Lilith nodded to the man beside her. 'It is time.'

In the shadows surrounding the Devils Gates, Sam could make out the dim outline of countless Demons, standing in a wide circle around the graveyard perimeter. They all stood extremely quiet in anxiety, waiting for the deed to be done and being a preliminary caution to making sure that nothing could stop them from achieving it.

The dark-haired Demon stepped forwards slowly, reaching into his coat pocket and withdrawing a familiar and powerful colt. No, not just a colt, but 'the Colt'.

Without hesitation he pushed the pistol into the small slot embedded in the front of the gate.

And he turned it.

Immediately the Gate began to react. The Devils trap engraved upon the doors began to spin wildly, and the doors of Hell slowly started to open.

Above the noise of the Gates opening, Lilith's voice boomed through the night sky, chanting an ancient ritual read directly from the Manuscripts, and keeping at bay any creatures that could possibly have tried to escape from the open doors in the process – although, perhaps not intentionally.

The ground shook immensely and Sam heard the distressing sound of his tombstone crack, not capable of withstanding the tremendous force vibrating beneath the ground.

The stone behind him gave a fatal crack, and – of course – Sam was free, sprawled on the grass. Lifting his head, he realised that it was already too late to stop Lilith. She continued the chanting, a glowing force field enclosing her and the Devils Gates inside it as she summoned to Earth the most deadly and vile creature ever known.

A tremendous roar echoed from beyond the Gates, and Sam shot Bobby a look of pure terror as their worst nightmare was unleashed upon the world and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

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