Heroes

By: Maygin

Summary: "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."

Edmund Burke (1729-1797)

I know you hear it all the time… but it's been freaking crazy around here so I apologize it took me a week to update this chapter!! Not to mention the two times I DID try and update FFN kept giving me an error. Anyways, I hope it was worth the wait. Also, thank you guys (I know I say it every time but thank you) for all the kind and honest reviews! Your excitement makes me excited!

Chapter 9

Dean burst through the Sanctuary's front doors, the slamming of the heavy oak echoing along the empty pews. He squinted to see clearly in the darkness… something wasn't right. He could almost feel the bad vibes in the air; and he could swear he smelled traces of sulfa that weren't there before. He slowly made his way up the long, empty isle, looking up and down the pews and into the balcony. He paused briefly as his eyes picked up on a few dark spots on the clean, white marble floor next to one of the pews. He crouched down slightly and peered hard into the surrounding area; there was no question in his mind that was blood. The question was where did it come from?

A suddenly disturbing thought occurred to him and he hesitantly looked straight up. He let out a small breath of relief as no bodies with slashes across their stomachs were hanging from the ornate rafters high above. He didn't think he was ready to face that reality just yet. He couldn't believe that less than an hour ago he still thought all this was due to some psycho with a lighter. He remained crouched and continued his slow steps towards to the pulpit. He froze as he reached the corner of the front pew; a pair of black shoes connected to a pair of black pants lay unmoving just within sight.

He rushed around the corner and reached down to check the elder man's pulse. He couldn't see any life-threatening wounds, but the man did have a gash along his brow that was still bleeding slightly. He patted the man's face, "Father Jim… come on." His eyes darted back and forth between the slowly rousing man and the Sanctuary around him, making certain he wouldn't be ambushed from behind. He finally got fed up and just smacked the holy man across the cheek, "Hey!"

Father Jim's eyes flew open and his hands shot out, reaching up in a defensive manner. He immediately recognized the young man standing guard over him despite the blurriness. "Dean?"

"Yeah it's me, what happened?"

"It found us."

"The demon?"

The Father shook his head, sharp pains reminding him of his head wound. "It was one of his acolytes-"

"Another demon? I thought you said they couldn't come in here."

"They're more powerful than I thought, we-"

"Where's Sam?"

"He ran… tried to draw it away from here."

"Do you know where he'd go?"

"No. But he knows the demons hate exposure…"

"You think he'll go somewhere where there's a lot of people? Won't that put them at risk?"

"No," the Father bit his lip as the room shifted slightly, "they won't risk exposure like that. One of evils greatest assets is staying low key. People tend to ignore what they don't see, so-"

"Can't fight what they can't see…" he answered, realizing even as he'd said it there was a deeper meaning there. "I'll find him." Dean assured, squeezing the man's arm and turning.

"Dean wait," Father Jim grimaced as he pulled himself to his feet. "You can't go unarmed."

Dean shook his head to belay the man's concern. "It's alright; I got a hand gun in the glove compartment."

The Father pressed against his pounding head, swaying slightly. "I'm not talking about normal weapons."

Dean watched the man suddenly turn towards the alter and made his way through the side door. Dean hesitated a moment before reluctantly following. The Father walked into his office towards his bookshelf. On it rested a simple, golden Celtic cross holding some books in place. Dean watched as the man pulled it forward, the book end holding the base in place. The wall on the left side of the bookshelf suddenly swung in on itself. The Father moved inside and pulled a light switch.

Dean's eyes roamed the room in awe; a little unsettled that an armory like this rested within the confines of the church. The old, stone walls had axes and swords hanging from them, along with large tomes resting on bookshelves. A vat filled with water sat along one wall, clear bottles lined a shelf above it. And along the back wall were shelves of guns and rifles; some very old looking, others more modern.

Father Jim pulled what looked like a sawed off shotgun from the shelf and practically thrust it into Dean's arms. He then grunted as he kneeled down and opened a small cabinet, pulling out some modified rounds. He thrust those into Dean's hand as well and then looked at him.

Dean stared at him with wide eyes, "I suppose now isn't the time to ask about this."

"Smart boy," he rested a weary hand on the shells, "these shells are filled with rock salt. I doubt it will kill the demon, but it should slow it down."

"Rock salt?"

"Later," he grabbed a glass flask from one of the side shelves and held it out for the younger man, "Holy water… again, it won't kill it-"

"Slow it down," Dean confirmed, he glanced around the room. "Is there anything in here that can kill it?"

"I don't know yet. Just bring Matthew back here. I'll make sure it's safe upon your return."

"How?" Dean demanded, ignoring the man's slip of his brother's name. He didn't want to bring them back to where they'd just been ambushed.

"Just trust me Dean."

Dean stared at him a moment more before giving a small nod and turned, running out of the church and into the night. He stopped at his car, dropping the weapons into the passenger seat and looking up and down the street. Where would the kid have ran to?

…evils greatest asset is staying low key…

"Okay then," Dean dropped into his car, "let's makes a little noise." He turned the engine over and tore off, heading for the warehouse district.

--S--

He quickly assessed each building that he sped by. There was one specific one he was looking for. He grinned as it suddenly came into view; a large 'CONDEMNED' sign posted outside the main entrance of the abandoned building. He put the car in park and opened the trunk of his car, pulling out a gas can. He made quick work of dumping the gas around the first floor, especially around the old textiles that still lay in rolls along the wall, rotting.

He walked back towards his car, cold puffs of air appearing in the night as he picked up an old bottle from the ground. He filled the bottle and stuffed a rag in it, lighting the end. The flame reflected in his eyes as he looked upon the building one last time. "If you can't get Mohammad to the mountain…" He tossed the bottle into the front entrance, enjoying the smashing of the glass and the hungry flames that licked along the walls, finding a worthy meal. Dean watched the flames spread a moment more before turning his back on it and heading towards his car.

He pulled his cell out of his pocket and pressed in a few numbers. "Yeah, there's a huge fire on Wesley and Eleventh… one of the old warehouses, you better hurry; I think it's spreading." He flipped the phone shut, ignoring the questions of the operator. With a small grin he got back into his car and drove off, praying this would work.

--S--

A few miles away a young man stumbled to a stop at the edge of an alley, sliding down the brick wall, gasping for breath. He pressed a trembling hand against his side, feeling the wetness and wincing as his head pounded incessantly. He started as the tingling of broken glass sounded behind him. He could see a dark shadow moving slowly towards him in the darkness.

Blaring sirens and flashing lights suddenly flew by the alley. The shadow paused a moment, hesitating while the rest of the emergency vehicles passed. Matthew watched the fire trucks speed down the street. His eyes paused as they latched onto a dull flickering light along the skyline in the distance. He swallowed down the thick lump of hopelessness that had lodged in his throat and pushed up from the dirty ground with a growl, not even bothering to look behind him as he kept his eyes fixed on the beacon.

--S--

Dean stood far off to the side beside one of the other warehouses as two more fire trucks pulled to a stop next to the others. He recognized P.B., Myers, Marris and others from his team as they leapt from the trucks and began adding man power to the situation; pulling water lines and helping gain control of the flames. Police did their best to keep the curious crowds of onlookers and news crews back from the blazing building.

He scanned the crowd critically, glancing at the surrounding area every few seconds. He was making a pretty big gamble here, but the odds of just aimlessly driving around the city weren't necessarily in his favor either. His head jerked back towards the burning building as a few windows suddenly exploded, smoke and flames pouring out. Some people in the crowd screamed, even though they weren't in any real danger as long as they stayed back. Fortunately the building was right along the docks, so the fire only had to be contained at the sides.

"Come on, come on," he muttered impatiently. He peeked his head around the door of the warehouse he was currently hiding in. A silent hoorah went up in his head as his gambling paid off.

Sam, floppy hair and all came tearing out from between two buildings on Dean's right. The kid was sprinting for all he was worth, but came to a skidding halt as the blazing fire came into view. He only hesitated a moment before heading toward the crowds of people and news vans.

Dean brought a hand to his mouth to call out to him when suddenly the younger man fell hard to the street; as if someone had literally pulled his feet out from beneath him. Then an invisible force dragged him across the gravely road and tossed him through an old wooden door in one of the smaller buildings he'd just passed by. Dean broke into a run, cursing loudly as what he assumed was the demon, which looked surprisingly human, walked out of the shadows and stepped into the dark building as well.

--S--

Had his lungs been cooperating, Matt would've let a groan slip from his bloody lip as he slowly tried to push himself onto his back. He was covered in dust and gravel and his back, side and head were all competing for his attention. Not mention the scrapes and cuts along chest and legs from being dragged across the gravel road. He finally succeeded in drawing in a short breath that ended with a gasp and some coughing. He didn't quite make it onto his back before a shadow crossed over the outside lights.

He lifted his head already knowing what he'd see; he wasn't disappointed. The demon possessed man strode confidently into the room until his boots stopped in front of his prey. He sneered down at him.

"Pathetic." He lunged down and grabbed the kid by his shirt and jacket and lifted him until his face was within millimeters of his own. "What will you do now blessed one, hm?"

Matt struggled in the demon's grasp, he couldn't quite get his legs under him though and the room kept spinning around them.

"You're an abomination. Given something you don't even fully comprehend the extent of." It's expression turned mocking, "Poor, poor Samuel. You saved all those children… and what do you have to show for it hm?" The demon reached down and pressed a hand into the wounded man's side, causing him to cry out in between gasps, tears coming to his eyes. The demon tisked as the entirety of its eyes turned into bottomless pits of black. "Whose going to save you now Samuel?"

"Hey Pinhead!"

The demon's head whirled around to see another young man standing in the doorway silhouetted by the huge flames in the building across the road. What he failed to immediately see however was the shotgun in the strangers hands just before he brought it to his shoulder and took aim.

Dean was careful to make sure the shot leaned to the left to avoid hitting his brother. The demon was flung backwards to the floor, dragging his prisoner down with him.

As soon as Matt hit the floor his instincts kicked in and he rolled away from the possessed man to his feet. Unfortunately with his head threatening to explode among his other injuries his feet instead tripped over themselves and he ended up crashing into the wall where he remained awkwardly sitting, trying to remember how to breathe.

Dean cast a quick glance to his brother to make sure he hadn't broken his neck in his hasty retreat, and then walked towards the demon who was slowly sitting up, grimacing at the stinging salt wounds along its chest and shoulder. Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out the glass flask Father Jim had given him. "Next time you feel like doin a little babysitting…" he stopped in front of the demon, "make sure he's an only child." And with that, Dean brought the flask down on the man's head, shattering it and covering him in the holy water.

The demon possessed man screamed in agony as the skin on his face seemed to almost melt, boils and traces of smoke appearing. Dean watched it writhe on the floor in awe for a moment before his senses kicked back in and he turned toward the opposite wall. He rushed over to his brother's side.

"You alright?"

"What are you doing here?" Matt gasped as Dean found the gash in his side.

"What do you think I'm doin here?" He reached forward to pull up the kid's shirt.

Matt shoved his hands away, "You could've gotten yourself killed."

"That's funny, cuz from my angle it looked like that was the road you were about to head down."

"It's my problem. You shouldn't get involved."

"Wrong," Dean pulled up short and stared hard into the younger man's eyes, making sure he had his attention. "Whether you like it or not we are brothers… and that means we watch each others backs, no matter what."

Matt swallowed thickly as he finally allowed this man's words to take up haven in his mind. "It called me Samuel," he said quietly, not really knowing why that thought had chosen to slip from his lips.

Dean gave a small nod and then tilted his head, "We called you Sammy."

The younger man grimaced slightly. "How about Sam?"

"I'll think about it." He glanced behind them seeing the demon slowly rolling to its side. "Come on," he pulled one of his brother's arms over his shoulder, "we gotta get out of here…ready?"

Sam gave a short nod and Dean lifted, eliciting a stifled cry. They stumbled out of the old building not even bothering to spare a look at the flaming structure a few meters away.

TBC…

(At this time I would just like to take a moment to see if anyone else was also afflicted with a sudden onset of a heart attack Thursday night when the fateful words "SOON" materialized on the television screen. What an AWESOME surprise!! I am SOO Excited!! Yeah I know, it also means no new episodes for a little while… but UGH!! That was AWESOME! I believe the words that sealed the awesome deal were "Dad told me something… about you." Can't wait!)