NINE

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

January 18th, 2009

The damn Winchesters had been snooping just like Lilith thought they would. Malphas had set off an alarm in the travel agency offices on the eleventh floor, trying to get them caught. They still had outstanding warrants on them even though the FBI agent, Victor Henrickson, had claimed they were killed in the siege on the police station in Monument, Colorado and were listed as dead. It wouldn't be the first time the police believed Dean had faked his own death. But the damn cockroaches had gotten away and now they were out there somewhere with important information about his meat-suit.

How long would it take them to figure out what was going on, what was residing in Walter Conroy's body? Not long given their history. They weren't dumb as Lilith liked to remind him. They were the best hunters Hell had seen in a long time. They had exceeded their father's reputation long before John Winchester had given his soul to Azazel in an attempt to save Dean. Dean sure found out just how angry the demons in hell were thanks to them, Malphas thought, chuckling to himself. How I wish I could have been there for that torture.

Lilith was right about his mistake, too. He had been careless and now it was going to cost him a perfectly good meat-suit. Oh well. Nothing I can do about it now. He had to leave soon, he knew that. It was only a matter of time before demon-boy came in search of a demon to exercise. Malphas shuddered, knowing that even Lilith was afraid of Sam and his gifts. She had tried to kill him once before and was astounded to find that she couldn't. What did you do to him, Azazel?

He was pacing inside his apartment, wishing he could get in contact with Lilith; to warn her that she had to move on, too. They probably already knew she was in town thanks to the stupid angels. Malphas looked to the sky, wishing he could pull one from Heaven and rip it apart. That time will come, he thought happily.

Once Lucifer rises, the heavens will fall and the birds will be free-range. Just line them all up for destruction. Malphas smiled at the thought. He hoped to have his chance at Uriel. He had business with the angel, business he wanted to settle badly. But Lilith had ordered the stay of his hand and he didn't want to disobey as much as he wanted the bird's cosmic head on a stick. His retribution would come once Lucifer walked the Earth. Malphas sighed and knew the time had come for him to move out, so to speak. He had enjoyed being inside this meat-suit and hadn't had time to find a comparable new one yet, but the Winchesters were too close.

Malphas pulled himself out of the body, the force of it like a sucking from within, and watched from above as the used body crumbled to the floor. The man's soul had long since departed, too tired to fight against the demon inside with him. It had served its purpose well. He moved off, feeling light after being in a body for so long.

There really was no explanation for her being late. It takes exactly twenty minutes to get from her apartment to the restaurant, Doug Princeton thought angrily. His girlfriend, Lori Donnelly, was infamous for being late, but he never got used to it. It was starting to put a strain on him. Doug was impeccably punctual, something ingrained on him during his brief stay in the Army.

He had received a dishonorable discharge after his temper had gotten the best of him and decided that he was of better use in a position that allowed him to vent that anger. He had bounced from job to job for a while, finally finding the perfect job as a bouncer for a local night club. He was able to smack around all the smartasses he wanted and not have any trouble with the cops.

Last night had been very therapeutic. A young, cocky, Asian kid had been trying to sneak past him while he let in a few gorgeous-looking women. Doug had been caught up in watching the red-head in the group sauntered by in her short, black halter dress and the boy had almost gotten by. If he'd kept his mouth shut, he would have, Doug thought bitterly.

The kid had called to his friends in line that he'd see them inside and Doug had spun around, grabbing him by the collar. The kid had tried to push Doug off, but found out quickly that that was something not easily done to two hundred and seventy-five pounds of muscle and bone. The kid had managed one good swing, connecting with Doug's chin, before he'd been put down. The police were called and they listened to Doug's side of things, which had been slightly different then what actually went down.

Doug knew that he had to lie, if just to cover his own ass. No one waiting in line would risk not corroborating Doug's account after watching him beat on the kid, so the police had taken the kid to the hospital and Doug had gone back to work. "Stupid, punk..." he mumbled as the waiter returned to the table for the third time.

"Will your guest be arriving soon, sir?" the man asked in a condescending tone.

"Better be," Doug grumbled. Something about the look on his face must have sent a warning to the waiter because the man backed off immediately, mumbling about coming back later. Doug glanced towards the door to the restaurant as it opened and growled when a couple, not Lori, entered. He shoved himself from the table, stomping off towards the bathroom.

The bitch better be here when I get back, he thought to himself as he slammed through the door. An older man, in about his late sixties, stood at a sink. He jumped at Doug's loud entrance and rushed from the bathroom, avoiding eye contact. Doug smirked at his reflection in the mirror as he walked over to one of the white sinks. Gripping the edges of the basin, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He couldn't afford to lose his temper in front of everyone in the restaurant.

Doug noticed the reflection of something in the mirror out of the corner of his eye and looked up. A cloud of black smoke was billowing from the air vent above the bathroom door. "What the hell..." he managed before something struck him as odd. The smoke didn't look like it was being blown from the vent, but pulling itself from it.

Doug turned to get a closer look and the smoke was on him, surrounding him so fast he barely had time to cry out. The cloud, because there was no other way to describe it, began to choke him. It forced its way up his nose and down his throat, cutting off his air. Doug tried to grab it, clawing at his throat in an effort to clear his airway, but it was no use. He slumped forward, falling to his knees, his eyes blurring from lack of oxygen.

Just as suddenly as the cloud had taken him, it was over. He could breath and his vision was clear, but something was off about the way Doug felt. It was like he was floating, buoyant as if lying on his back on the waves of the ocean. His vision was slightly tunneled, like he was looking through a telescope or a rifle sight.

What the hell is going on? he thought wildly. He tried to move his body, to clear his throat, or make some kind of small motion but found that everything felt like dead weight. Doug's legs would not respond when he tried to stand, his arms stayed clutched to his face as they had been while the cloud invaded him. I'm paralyzed, he groaned.

"No. You're not," a voice stated. With horror, Doug realized the voice was his own. His lips moved yet he didn't command them to.

What the hell is going on? he thought frantically. He watched in the mirror as his body rose and strode forward, his walk slightly stiff.

"This body is going to take a little getting used to," his voice stated, his lips forming each word. "I think I like it though. All this power, all these muscles." In his head he heard a chuckle. I'm going crazy, Doug yelled.

"No, you haven't gone insane,"a new voice, this time internally, replied. It was an odd experience, hearing another voice inside his head. This can't be happening, Doug thought.

"Oh, it's happening. It will be much easier if you just give in to the pull you feel. Give in to the need to be free. I'm much too strong for you to fight. It's easier to just give up, Doug," the voice replied.

Doug was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of lightness as the words sunk in. He could tell that this entity, whatever it was, was much stronger than he was, just as it said. No sooner did he recognize this fact then everything changed. Suddenly he was floating again, this time above his body, watching as it stared into the mirror. He felt light, free of all the anger and rage that coursed through him on a daily basis. He was happy, floating above his body for what seemed like hours. He watched as his body looked up at him.

"You really should have tried harder to hold on, Doug. You haven't exactly been a model monkey. That man you killed last year? The one you beat with your bare hands, his teeth rattling around inside his head long before you stopped hitting him, was a good man. He had a wife and three kids, all girls, who depended on him for their livelihood. You should see them now, Doug, living in the back of their minivan. You killed that man for what? Because he looked at you the wrong way when he passed you on the street. You followed him all that way just to tell him how much that bothered you? Your temper always got the best of you, Doug, and now you're going to pay for it. Wait until you see what's waiting for you," his body stated.

Doug felt a sharp tug from his middle and looked down, the bathroom tiles no longer there. He hurtled downward and then felt a sharp pain as something snagged him in his back. He twisted to fight back and found that he couldn't turn. The pain intensified and spread and Doug saw chains pierce his flesh, which was once again hard and physical. He screamed and heard what sounded like millions of voices echo his own. Oh god, am I in hell?

"Yes," a voice hissed in his ear. Doug turned his head and found himself staring at the most hideous thing he had ever seen. He began to shriek, his voice strained and strange. The face laughed at him as it pulled out a long, silver blade and began hacking at his flesh.