TEN
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
January 19th, 2009
"I'm guessing no one's home," Dean stated. Sam stood holding the buzzer down next to the sticker that labeled Walter Conroy's apartment. The kid is way too uptight, Dean thought to himself. The building's security was too tight and there were too many people out at the time for them to attempt a break-in.
"We have to get into this building, Dean," Sam exclaimed as he pressed the buzzer again. Dean rolled his eyes and reached out, pulling his brother's finger off the buzzer. "What are you doing?" Sam snapped.
"I'm trying to save you from a life of trigger-finger arthritis!" Dean rolled his eyes. "What the hell do you think I'm doing? We aren't getting in with a welcome, Sam, that much is obvious. So now we try with a little finesse." Dean hopped off the step and strolled back to where they'd parked the Impala, listening to Sam's footsteps following behind him. He pulled open the passenger side door and grinned at the slightly confused look on his brother's face.
"I suppose you have a plan brewing in that twisted brain of yours," Sam asked.
"Always do," Dean said, giving Sam a slightly bemused expression. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the faded cigar box that held their various fake . "We're going incognito!" He produced a small I.D with Peco Electric Company stamped on it.
"Got this baby working a job with dad about seven years ago. A nasty poltergeist was holed up in this old house on Arch Street in Old City. We got the call from a friend of dad's hoping we could make some headway. The hunter was hired by the owner's niece, but the damn old lady who lived there wouldn't let anyone in to help. So dad conned her with these beauties and we exercised the sucker." Dean shut the car door. "We'll need to get one made for you, of course. And some uniforms." Sam took the badge from Dean and began inspecting it.
"This is actually a really good forgery," he stated as he flipped it over. Sam laughed at the picture Dean had used. Then he spotted the name. "John Carpenter?"
"What? I was going through a phase," Dean explained. "Hey, you know what? I just thought of the name we're going to use for you." Dean smirked devilishly at Sam.
"Okay, what?" Sam asked suspiciously.
"Stevie Wayne," Dean replied with a grin. He could see Sam trying to place the name and waited, expectantly. I'm going to love this, Dean thought humorously. He was holding his breath, trying to control the laughter from bursting out.
"Okay. I can live with that," Sam finally said, nodding his head. Dean started to chuckle despite himself. As if a light had gone on in his head, Sam glared at Dean. "Wait a minute. Wasn't that the name of the one chick in the movie The Fog?" Sam asked, eyeing his brother. Dean couldn't control himself any longer and began laughing hysterically. This confirmed Sam's guess and he groaned. Dean bent over and gripped his knees, gasping for air, as tears streamed down his face. "It's not funny, Dean. Why do you always have to do that?" Sam hissed petulantly.
"Because it's so damn funny," Dean wheezed through a renewed fit of laughter. Sam pushed him and he slumped against the side of the car, still shaking with laughter.
"Would you pull yourself together. People are starting to stare," Sam grumbled. Dean looked around and saw that Sam was right; people were casting anxious looks in their direction. Seeing this helped bring Dean around. Slowly the fit let up and he was able to breathe again. He wiped his eyes in an exaggerated fashion and then swiped the badge from Sam's hand.
"Let's go find a Kinko's to make another one of these," Dean said, chuckling lightly again. Sam pulled his laptop from the backseat and set it on the trunk of the Impala. He quickly found a local costume shop that could provide the uniforms for fairly cheap. There was a printing service shop located not far from the costume shop so Dean dropped Sam out front while he went off to perfect Sam's new I.D badge. Dean laughed as he remembered how Sam had tried to bargain with him to use a different name.
Thirty minutes later, Dean pulled back up in front of the costume shop and spotted Sam standing by the shop's door, two garment bags slung over his shoulder. It looked like he was talking to himself. Dean honked once to get his brother's attention and Sam turned, finally giving Dean the chance to see who his brother was talking to.
"Ruby," he growled. He got out of the Impala, slamming the door, then winced. "Sorry girl," Dean whispered, patting the roof soothingly. "I shouldn't take it out on you." He stalked over to them and stopped next to Sam.
"Hello, Dean," Ruby greeted him flatly.
Dean nodded at her once and then turned to Sam. "Let's get a move on it, Sammy. We've got work to do."
"Just a minute. Ruby has some info I think you might want to hear," Sam replied, dismissing Dean's attitude towards the demon-girl.
Just because you've got a thing going doesn't mean I've got to like her, Dean thought bitterly. He knew he was being juvenile. Ruby had been a major support for Sam, had even saved his life, while Dean was in hell. It did make him feel slightly grateful towards her, but that gratitude only extended so far.
Lately, she had been showing up a lot and Dean found that the whispering between the two of them grated on his nerves. She was the one, after all, who wanted Sam to use his freaky demon powers and that made her motives extremely suspicious to Dean. What exactly are your plans for my brother, Ruby? Dean wondered.
"Let's hear it, then," Dean grunted.
"Well, I was telling Sam that there have been whispers swirling that Lilith is here," Ruby began. She held up a finger when Dean opened his mouth to remark. "Just a sec. I know you guys already know. Sam told me Castiel said she might be here. What you don't know is that there is another demon that's committing all the murders and he's one nasty son of a bitch. His name is Malphas and he is basically Lilith's second-in-command on Earth. He's been doing her bidding with the murders.
"I've also been asking around about that pentagram you found in Honey Brook. Looks like it may not be what you think it is. It's not a ritual. No one I've asked has ever seen anything like it and I've asked some pretty ancient contacts. I don't like how this is all coming together. I was just telling Sam it might be wise to skip town, now, before whatever's happening happens."
"No way," Dean exclaimed. There was no way he was going to walk away from a fight, especially if it was against Lilith. He eyed Sam and was shocked to see doubt in his eyes. "Thanks for the heads up Ruby, but this is our job. We're here to stop another seal from being broken and just because you can't find any reliable demon sources to give you some information doesn't make it any less a possibility. We'll deal as we go, but, for now, we have to go on what we know. If Lilith is here then we have to at least try to stop her. While we have that chance."
"Dean's right, Ruby. We have to at least try to kill Lilith," Sam agreed. He still looks like he wants to take her advice, Dean thought as he watched his brother look at Ruby. Ruby glared at Dean but nodded at Sam.
"Alright, I tried. But remember, it might be your funerals. Just be careful, Sam, okay," she relented.
"I'll at least try," he said, smiling at her. Dean rolled his eyes and groaned. Go make googley-eyes somewhere else! Sam punched him in the shoulder, but turned and started for the car.
"See you later, Dean," Ruby said and disappeared around the corner.
"Yeah, whatever," Dean mumbled.
Sam was already waiting for him by the car, so Dean strolled over and slid into the driver's seat. He pulled out onto the road and headed back to Walter Conroy's apartment, thinking about what Ruby had told them. Could this all be over soon? Dean wondered as he sped around a slow moving Septa public transportation bus. They parked and changed quickly, pulling the uniforms over their civilian clothes. Dean handed Sam his I.D badge, which now identified him as Sam Loomis, and headed back to the front of the apartment building. They buzzed the apartment once more, still getting no response. Dean then started pressing buttons at random.
Finally, an irritated voice broke over the intercom. "Yo?" Sam rolled his eyes at the false bravado in the man's voice. Clearly this guy's seen one too many Rocky movies, Dean thought.
"We're with Peco Energy. We're trying to reach a Walter Conroy," Dean stated.
"Well, then ring him," the voice snapped.
"We tried, sir, but there doesn't seem to be anyone answering," Sam replied.
"Well, then I guess he ain't home, now is he!"
"Well, we're not really sure that may be the case," Sam continued.
This is crazy! I'm done with this fool, Dean thought, annoyed.
"See, we got a complaint from Mr. Conroy late last night that he smelled gas in his apartment, but we couldn't send anyone out at the time. We weren't able to reach him this morning on the number he left with the dispatcher," Dean explained. "If it's a leak, we need to get in to that apartment, ASAP. It could be rather dangerous if remains unchecked."
"A gas leak?" They could practically hear the wheels turning in the man's head, his obvious need for self preservation battling with his sense of security. A second later, they heard a deep buzzing noise and a click as the door unlocked from the inside.
"Thank you, Mr. Balboa," Dean mumbled. Sam grabbed the door and they slipped inside, heading for the elevators. "This place is nice," Dean observed as they walked through the lobby. He watched his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors on either side of the elevator as they stood waiting for them to arrive. The marble-like floors reflected the lobby's high arched ceilings in eschewed prisms.
Damn do we look stupid dressed up in these silly costumes to appease the normal people, Dean thought, shaking his head.
Dean always hated this part of the job. They stepped into the elevator and his stomach fluttered as they shot upwards. He hated to fly and sometimes, in the more expensive updated elevators, he was reminded of a plane's takeoff. He gripped the slender gold bar that ran along the interior of the elevator and closed his eyes, taking deep, steady breaths. Dean could sense Sam's amusement at his current state even with his eyes closed and muttered, "Just shut your trap, Sammy."
"Relax, Dean. We're almost there," Sam said, chuckling a little.
A second later, they stopped abruptly and Dean's eyes flashed open. The doors slid apart and he pushed past Sam into the hallway. Bright sunlight streamed in from a window at the opposite end, reflecting softly off the beige walls. Sam had already headed down the hallway in the opposite direction, so Dean followed after him, looking at the shiny brass apartment numbers on each door they passed.
"Here we are: Apartment 613," Sam said as he tapped the paper he'd pulled out with Walter Conroy's address on it. He tucked it into a back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his lock pick kit, immediately going to work. Taking no time at all, Sam stood up, put the kit back in his coat pocket, and pulled out his gun, thumbing the safety before looking to Dean. Dean had already pulled his own gun out and nodded that he was ready. They each took a steadying breath, preparing for anything, and pushed the door open.
"Mr. Conroy?" Dean called tentatively as they relayed positions into the room. They heard the door shut with a soft click behind them, but heard no other noises. The apartment appeared to be empty. "Looks like nobody's home after all," Dean stated. He lowered his gun and walked into the large kitchenette. Sam moved into the living room, still on edge.
"I don't know about that," he growled a second later. Dean turned at the sound of distress and anger in his brother's voice. "Looks like we were right about Walter Conroy." Sam nodded at something on the floor as Dean made his way over. Lying in a heap on the floor was the body of a man, his half-turned face blank, his gray eyes almost opaque behind the crooked dark green-rimmed glasses.
"Dammit," Dean cursed. He bent down and gently pushed the body onto it's back. There was a small bullet hole in the man's chest. "Looks like the damn demon vacated shortly after this was inflicted."
"This is bull," Sam snapped, startling Dean. "I'd bet the demon was at the office building last night. It set off the alarm that almost got us caught. We were so close and now? We may never find the damn thing."
"We'll just have to keep looking for it. If the ritual was finished, we'd know. Cas would have shown up if it was over. The demon's still gotta be here somewhere, we just have to find the thing and kill it." Dean stood up and stepped towards his brother. He had meant to put his hand on Sam's shoulder but Sam took a step back and turned away.
"If we'd come here last night like you'd wanted to, maybe it would be over," he growled.
"Sammy, this isn't your fault. Look at him. This man has been dead a long time. Demons ride the bodies hard, you know that."
"I might have been able to save him, Dean!"
"How? By using those freaky demon powers of yours?" Dean growled in frustration. "No, Sam. I told you, you can't mess around with that stuff. It's not safe," Dean yelled, unable to hide his anger at Sam's evident self blame.
"I'm not going to have this argument with you again," Sam grumbled. He turned to face Dean, his eyes hard, set. "Let's just get the hell out of here before that guy calls Peco and finds out we don't work for them." He headed for the door. Dean followed him after a moment's hesitation.
"I don't want to fight with you either, Sam, but we need to get something straight. You can't use those powers."
"Just drop it, alright," Sam snapped, jabbing at the down button for the elevator.
I am not riding on that thing again, no way! Dean thought in slight panic. "I'm going to take the stairs. I'll meet you at the car," Dean said, already opening the stairwell door. It'll give both of us some time to cool off.
"Whatever," Sam muttered and stepped into the elevator. Dean sighed in resignation as the doors slid closed before heading down the stairs.
Sam was leaning against the Impala already out of his uniform, his arms crossed across his chest. He was staring off down the busy street, lost in thought. He still looked angry, so Dean climbed quietly into the car and started the engine. Sam dropped in beside him and he peeled out onto the road, the silence stretching awkwardly between them.