Thank you for reading! Special thanks to Ster1, ponyperson, nikki98499, teal-lover, yasmine32068, and xanseviera for reviewing!!

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Sam and Dean, but I don't. Kripke, Warner Bros, etc are the rightful owners of all involved here. No profit is being made from this fic, it just helps me pass the time until Season 3 starts.

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"Nos eriperes de potestate diaboli, ab omni hoste visibili et invisibili et ubíque in hoc sáeculo liberetur." Sam laid the book to the side and reached into his pocket, removing a Medal of the Immaculate Conception of Mary and hanging it around his neck.

"Ut piisima et Immaculáta caelórum Domina vos prótegat atique defendat." The medal, if worn by faith, was said to protect the wearer from suffering the eternal flames of Hell. "Numquam lædatur a morsu antiqui derpentis," Sam continued.

Sam took out a pot of consecrated olive oil, and began pouring the oil over himself. "Ego ipse exstinxi omis virtus adversarii, omnis exceritus diaboli, omnis incúrus, omne phatasma Satanæ eradicare, insidiis inimici liberéntur."

Then, Sam rose from his knees and retrieved a large golden goblet engraved with Vade Retro, Satana! Nunqum Suade Mihi Vana. Sunt Mala Quae Libas; Ipse Venena Bibas, which means 'Begone, Satan! Suggest not vain things to me. Evil is the cup thou offerest; Drink thou thine own poison.' He returned to his place in front of the silver medallion and filled the cup with Holy Water, drinking the entire portion in one gulp.

He placed the cup and the oil sacrament on either side of the talisman and walked back to his motorcycle, pulling a large bag of rock salt from a duffel tied where a passenger might sit. Taking it back over to the makeshift altar, he said a short blessing over the salt and drew a wide arc extending about fifteen feet from the crypt. If the demons on Earth discovered what he was up to, they would try to stop him, and he couldn't spare the attention to watch his back.

The sun had long since set, and his preparations were now complete. Sam walked back to his bike and tucked the grimoire securely back into the saddle bag, and from the duffel he pulled the Colt and a long double edged sword.

Sam had decided the embodiment of the demon's death-nell would be a sword for several reasons. Hebrew 4:12 says "For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart", and Revelation 1:16 says "In his right hand he held seven stars, and out of his mouth came a sharp double-edged sword."

Not to mention, it would be handy when he was surrounded by demons. A pistol would be difficult to weild, and then reload, when engaged in close-quarters combat.

The sword, a beautiful tempered steel blade, was engraved on one side with Adjutórium nostrum in nómine Dómini, meaning 'Our help is in the name of the Lord', the first words of the exorcism blessing of St. Benedict. On the other side, the sword had been inscribed with seven stars, and on each star was the name of one of the Seven Archangels.

Sam's studies into all versions of Enochian history had taught him that the Archangels were the protectors and keepers of humanity, beginning with Uriel, who was over the world and over Tartarus. Since he was planning to enter Tartarus itself, calling on the power of this angel greatly bolstered his spirit. The other stars were Raphael (who ruled over the spirits of men), Raguel (who takes vengeance on the world of the luminaries, i.e. fallen angels/demons), Michael (ruled over chaos), Saraqael (over spirits who sin in the spirit), Gabriel (over Paradise, the serpent, and the Cherubim), and Remiel (whom God set over those who rise). Including the Archangels in the inscriptions and incantations at work this night was the key to killing all evil.

As for the Colt, which had spent it's last bullet the night Dean killed the Yellow Eyed Demon, Sam had called in many favors and spent a great deal of money to find and obtain a diary that Samuel Colt had kept between 1831 and 1837. From that text, he had been able to gleam the procedure for casting the bullets capable of the holy task required of them. He now had an entire belt full of the 'magical' bullets.

Sam pulled the belt and holster from the duffel, and buckled it around his thin waist. He shoved the Colt into it's leather sheath on his right, and tucked the blade into the belt on his left. The final item he pulled from the bag was a short wrought iron dagger in a nylon sheath with straps that allowed him to attach it to his left calf. Though the dagger was consecrated and made of pure iron, which repelled demons, it alone would not be sufficient to incapacitate or kill a demon, but might be useful.

He finished tightening the dagger to his leg, then walked back to the crypt, took out the Colt and pushed it into the tiny hole at the center of the large doors. He stepped back, watching as the locking mechanism began to spin.

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Going far faster than any speed limit would have allowed, Bobby looked at his instrument panel, thankful that there did not seem to be any cops out and about tonight on the Wyoming interstate. He looked at the clock in the dash with a half crazed look in his eye, then up at Ellen, sitting in the passenger seat.

"Do you think we'll make it?" she asked, worriedly.

Before he answered, Bobby glimpsed the exit sign for Wamsutter reflecting in his headlights not far ahead. "We'll make it," Bobby said resolutely. If only he truly believed it himself...

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Author's Note: The Latin is real, but do not attempt to enter a gate to Hell at home.

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