TWELVE
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
January 20th, 2009
"I'm tired of waiting," Dean snapped into the silent, idling car. He threw the Impala into drive and pulled out onto the street behind a beat up pick-up. The truck kicked up slush from the road, clouding the windshield within seconds. Dean snapped the wipers on and cursed under his breath. "I just can't sit around waiting for Ruby to call. I need to be doing something."
"What can we do? Last time I checked, we had nothing to go on. Besides, it's only been a little over twelve hours since Ruby left," Sam replied.
"I don't care. I can't just chill out when there's a battle raging around me."
"I..."
"Oh, come on, buddy. Pick a lane and stick with it," Dean yelled, cutting Sam off. The truck had begun to swerve between the two lanes, kicking up even more mess in its wake. Taking advantage of the obvious indecision of the driver ahead of them, Dean slammed on the gas. The Impala's engine roared and they rocketed around the truck in a blur of noise and a wave of slush.
"Let's see how you like it," Dean mumbled as the truck's windshield became covered in grime kicked up from the Impala's back tires. He could see Sam shaking his head and gripping the handle of the passenger door. "Relax Sammy."
"How am I suppose to relax when you're driving like a maniac. Have you never heard of black ice?" Sam snapped. He loosened his grip on the door handle a little as Dean came to a stop at a red light. Dean shook his head and laughed.
"I've got it under control. Besides, you know how I feel about backseat drivers." He turned to stare at Sam, cocking an eyebrow as he slammed on the gas the same moment the light turned green. Besides, I drive better than anyone, Dean thought smugly.
"I'm not saying another word," Sam declared. Dean swerved around another car, this time a small compact sedan, and turned onto a side street. "Where exactly are you going?" Sam asked a few minutes later.
"Thought you weren't going to say another word?" Dean teased. He glanced at Sam and saw him shrug.
"So sue me. Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Sam turned in his seat, trying to read Dean's face in the darkened car.
"I'm not sure. I'll know when we get there," Dean replied. His cell phone began to ring from inside his jacket pocket and he pulled it out, chuckling as he heard Sam gasp as he skirted past a cab, which had stopped to pick up a fare, just missing the cab's bumper. "Hell-lo," he called into the phone.
"Hey Dean, it's Bobby."
"Hey Bobby. What's up?" Dean saw Sam's head snap up at the hunter's name. He quickly put the phone on speaker so they could both hear.
"Well, I've been goin' over what Sam said about your theory that the pentagram's a fake. I reached out to a few friends of mine and asked if any of 'em have heard of a situation like this," Bobby explained. "I got a call back this mornin' from a hunter in Lisbon, Maryland by the name of Reggie Connors. Seems Reggie's heard of one instance like this before in the late seventies where a demon was using a false ritual to trap and kill unsuspecting hunters. Killed almost twenty-five before someone caught on and put a stop to it.
"Reggie faxed me a drawing of the pentagram used. I damn near choked on the cup of coffee I was drinkin' when it came through. It's the same one, right down to the voodoo symbol."
"Ruby said Lilith has done the fake-ritual-thing before. Maybe it was even her back in the seventies. Do you think we could talk to your friend Reggie, in person?" Sam asked, already pulling out his laptop.
"I thought ya'd want to talk to 'em so I asked and that would be okay," Bobby replied. They could hear him shuffling through some papers. "Tell me when you're ready and I'll give ya the address."
"Sam's ready to go when you are," Dean stated. Sam typed the address into the digital address book on his computer and then pulled up a map to plan the best route to take.
"I'll call Reggie and Frank and tell 'em you're on your way."
"Thanks Bobby. We owe you one," Sam said.
"Ya owe me more than that. I know I don't need to tell ya to be careful, but I'm gonna anyway. Take care boys." Bobby hung up, leaving the car silent once more. Dean pulled over and waited for Sam to give him the directions to Reggie Connors'.
"We have to take I-95 South to get to Lisbon. Once we get to the I-70/I-695 West exit, I'll have to give you more detailed directions," Sam explained. Dean nodded once and pulled back out into traffic.
Philadelphia was a relatively easy city for Dean to drive through; unlike New York, where the streets became labyrinths and he got lost quickly. He remembered the last time they were in New York City. They had been on a job and Dean had gotten so frustrated at the ever changing street names and directions that he had made Sam drive for the remainder of the hunt. New York streets are the bane of my existence, Dean thought dryly. He quickly found the ramp for I-95 South and merged into the growing afternoon rush-hour traffic.
He was glad they were doing something, but still disappointed it was just the grunt work. At least I'm not holed up in that apartment twiddling my thumbs, Dean thought to himself. He flipped on the radio and began scanning through the stations. "So do you really think we'll be able to get any more information from this Reggie guy?"
"I think whatever he can give us is more than we had before. At least now we know what we're dealing with." Sam sighed. "If it was Lilith in the seventies, maybe he'll know of a way to stop her." Dean pressed on the gas as traffic began to thin, many of the cars exiting into the passing suburbs. He peered over at Sam and saw that he was looking out of the window, lost in thought.
"What's on your mind, Sammy?"
Sam turned to look at him. "Not much. I've just been thinking about the past couple of days. Do you realize that five people, at least that we know of, have died for nothing."
"I've noticed, yeah. But they're demons. Death is basically their deal. We know better than anyone that they don't always need an excuse," Dean stated.
"I know. It's just that these people - Janet Hardy, Robert Kligman were killed for what? To lead us on a wild goose chase? It's crazy, Dean. Why is Lilith going to all the trouble? She never has before. It just doesn't make much sense."
"It is a little funny that she's spending so much time now when last year, when she owned my soul, she basically left us alone. There was that time in Colorado, but I'm not so sure she was after us. She didn't show up until after she knew we were gone to kill Henrickson and the others. Maybe it's because she knows she can't kill you herself that she's doing this. Maybe she hoped we'd go in, guns blazing, without doing a little research first, and wind up dead." Dean shook his head. "Whatever the reason, I stopped trying to figure these bastards out a long time ago."
"Lilith knows we're not stupid," Sam replied, shrugging. He gazed out the window for a moment before adding, "she needs to be stopped. Soon."
"I agree, but without knowing where she is we can't really do anything except gather info. Let's see what this friend of Bobby's has to say," Dean offered. They drove in silence, the radio playing softly in the background.
Sam and Dean arrived at Reggie Connors' home just after eleven-thirty. Hunters were typically night people, awake when the freaks they hunted were most active so they weren't worried about waking Reggie up.
As Sam shut his door, the screen door on the small gray house opened, and a grizzled looking man with silver hair came ambling out. He looked to be in his late sixties and was dressed in black slacks and a light blue pull-over sweatshirt. He smiled at the brothers, revealing yellowed teeth, the result of years of tobacco use. "Pleasure to meet you, boys," he stated, extending his hand to each of them. Dean was surprised at the strength in the man's grip considering his appearance.
"Nice to meet you, too," Dean replied. "You must be Reggie."
"Nope. The name's Frank. Reggie's still inside." He turned and started back to the house.
Sam and Dean exchanged a brief glance as if to say, "this guy's definitely off his rocker", before following Frank into the house. The inside was warm, the walls painted light and decorated with pictures of smiling, happy people. Not what you would expect of a hunter's home. The furniture was worn, but cozy looking, and spaced nicely around each room. Dean could hear a shower running somewhere upstairs.
Frank led them into the living room and offered them a seat on a large, light blue couch situated in front of the bay windows that looked out over the street oustide. Sam quickly sat down, but Dean remained standing, wanting to look around some more. "Reggie's in the shower. Should be down in a few minutes," Frank stated. He turned and left, leaving them alone in the room.
"Charming guy," Dean mumbled. He wandered over to the wall opposite the couch to get a closer look at the photographs hung there. A picture of a small, brown haired girl dressed in a denim jumpsuit astride a shiny red bike smiled at him from the center of a cluster of photos. She appeared in several more, in varying ages, and Dean noticed she was smiling in every one. Kid must have grown up completely oblivious to the life 'cause there's no way she'd look that happy if she did, Dean thought bitterly. He heard Sam cross the room, as he came to stand beside him, and remained quiet.
"Looks like a happy family," Sam finally said as Dean moved away, circling the room to take in all the photos.
"Yeah, they do. But even we know looks can be deceiving."
"Well aren't you a sparkling ray of sunshine," a soft voice quipped from behind them. Dean turned to see a small, slender woman with soft brown hair cut to her shoulders, still wet from her shower, standing in the doorway. She was dressed in gray athletic pants and an oversized dark green t-shirt that had a faded Nike emblem across her chest. Even from across the room, Dean could see her rolling her bright green eyes at him.
Damn, she's hot, he thought to himself.
"You must be Dean. Bobby's told me all about that sunny disposition of yours." The woman turned to Sam and extended her hand as she entered the room. "Regina Connors, but most people call me Reggie. I'm glad you guys found the place so easily. People tend to get lost about halfway here."
"It was pretty easy, actually," Sam replied. "Thanks for letting us drop by."
"Not a problem, Sam. Always glad to help a fellow hunter out. Especially when they're friends of Bobby Singer's. Can I offer you guys something to eat or drink? I think I still have a few beers hidden in the back of the fridge."
"Sure. I could use a beer," Dean replied.
They followed Reggie into a small kitchen and found the first real signs that a family of hunters lived there. A round, wooden table stood in the center of the room, it's top covered with a dark brown table cloth. Several guns, in varying stages of cleaning and assembly, were set out. An odd, bitter metallic smell, that Dean recognized as gun powder, hung in the air. On the wall opposite the old, white stove, a peg board had been installed to hold various bladed weapons. Frank was seated at the table staring off into space.
"Is he okay?" Sam asked, waving his hand in front of the man's blank stare.
"He's like that often. Diagnosed with Alzheimer's about three years ago. There are good days and bad days. Today was a bad day. I had to chase him down after he wandered halfway up the road in nothing but his underwear." Reggie pulled two beers out of the battered white refrigerator and handed them to Sam and Dean. Dean was eyeing a sawed-off shotgun, not much different than his own, sitting on the counter by the fridge as he popped off the lid of his beer and took a sip. "Like it," she asked, picking up the gun and offering it to him. Dean nodded and took the gun gingerly, feeling its easy weight in his hands.
"I have one just like it," he stated, turning the gun over in his hands. A small flower had been carved into the wood handle. Dean ran his fingers over it gently.
"I carved that myself. Silly, I know, but it's something feminine in a world of masculinity." Reggie chuckled lightly. "Listen to me, rambling on. I know you didn't come all the way from Philly to hear me talk about nothing." Dean saw Sam smile kindly at her. She motioned for them to head back through the kitchen door and into the living room.
Sam settled onto the couch again while Dean flopped into a faded gray recliner. The chair popped open immediately, jerking him backward. "What the hell?" he cried out in shock. He could hear Sam laughing hysterically and he struggled with the chair, finally managing to get it back into an upright position. He glared at his brother, who was wiping the tears from his eyes and still shaking with silent laughter. "You should warn a person before they sit in this thing," he growled at Reggie.
"Sorry about that. But to be fair, you did flop into it a little hard," Reggie said, still laughing herself. Dean continued to glare at them as Reggie took a seat in a matching gray recliner opposite him. She folded her legs underneath her and waited for them to ask their questions.
"Bobby told us you've heard of this pentagram before," Sam started, pulling out a copy of his sketch. He handed it to her and she glanced at it for a moment. "He said you heard about a false ritual where this pentagram was being used to trap hunters." Reggie nodded but didn't speak.
"You don't exactly look like you were around in the seventies," Dean interjected.
"I wasn't. I'm only twenty-five, but Frank was. I almost didn't place it at first when Bobby sent me the paper. Frank told me the story when I was about fifteen. In an attempt to give me some kind of caution about the life, I guess."
"What did he tell you about it?" Sam asked eagerly.
"Sometime in 1979, a few hunters, friends in a small circle of people my uncle stayed close to, started talking about this pentagram they'd stumbled upon. They couldn't find a ritual counterpart for it. I remember Frank had said it was really unusual because it mixed practices - hoodoo and pagan - and no one had ever seen anything like that before. A few months after the first hunter, a man by the name of John O'Riley, started looking into the ritual he disappeared.
"Over an eight month period, twenty-three more hunters just disappeared into thin air, the only connection - this strange pentagram. My uncle lost a few really good friends during that time. Finally, a hunter by the name of Lucas Black ran into my uncle and told him he'd gone looking into that pentagram. Lucas had run into a group of demons and had barely gotten away with his life. It was a trap, obviously. Set up to kill the hunters in an ambush. Lucas said the demon calling the shots was the most ruthless he had ever encountered.
"The demon would start by having a few people in a small area killed, making it look like it was just one of them, leaving just enough evidence behind to bring someone to investigate. A hunter would show up, looking for just the one demon, and instead find themselves surrounded. Lucas was half mad by the time he ran into my uncle, but he said that the lead demon came as a girl with white eyes. It was the worst thing he had ever encountered, seeing this little girl covered in blood, her face twisted into a gleeful expression as she tore Lucas's wife apart."
Dean immediately looked at Sam and Reggie paused, trying to read the exchange. "What is it?" she asked.
"You said Lucas talked about the lead demon? That it came as a little girl," Sam said.
"We've run into a demon who makes a habit of possessing little girls. Her name is Lilith and she is one brutal bitch," Dean continued.
"Wow. I mean, that's really sick, possessing a little girl," Reggie murmured. "I always thought it was just part of Lucas's madness. That he'd been so far gone after seeing his wife die, that nothing made sense to him anymore." She began biting the nail of her index finger absently. "Or that my uncle was exaggerating that part. Wait!" Reggie looked up at Sam, staring at him with wide eyes. "You said you've run into this Lilith before? Because of the pentagram?"
"Not because of the pentagram. We just discovered that a few days ago. We 'met' Lilith last year," Sam replied.
"How is it possible that you walked away if she's as brutal as Lucas said?" Dean saw Sam tense at the question and decided to answer her as truthfully as possible.
"I made a deal with a crossroads demon and Lilith ended up with the deed to my soul. We got to meet her right before her hellhounds dragged my ass to hell. About five months ago, an angel pulled me out and put me back on Earth to stop her. Lilith's trying to break these seals, gates to hell, and free Lucifer," Dean explained.
Reggie sat staring at Dean, frozen in place. The color had drained from her face, leaving her soft pale cheeks a ghostly white. She opened her mouth to speak then changed her mind and snapped it shut. Dean sighed heavily. "It's not as big a deal as it seems."
"I don't...I just...I have no idea what to say," Reggie stuttered. She ran her fingers through her hair, which Dean noted had begun to curl around her face as it dried. She glanced at Sam, who Dean saw was sitting forward, his head in his hands, his shaggy brown hair covering his face. He was rubbing his temples gently, as if he had a headache. "You said an angel pulled you out of hell? As in Archangel Gabriel, messengers of God, big-fluffy-white-wings-and-a-halo angels?"
"Well, they don't actually have the fluffy wings like what you mean, but basically, yeah. See they take over human bodies like demons do, just without all the damage," Dean said. He watched as the color slowly returned to Reggie's face, her cheeks going a slight pink as she realized he was staring at her. He smiled, then looked away, settling on a picture of a younger Reggie leaning against an old car. As he looked at it, Dean's jaw dropped open. "Is that a 1966 Plymouth Fury Sport?"
"What?" Reggie asked, startled. She followed Dean's gaze and smiled sheepishly. "Oh, that. Yeah it is. My grandfather bought it for me when I turned sixteen. Can you believe some guy just had it sitting in his garage gathering dust? Took almost two years for me to get it running again. Had to basically rebuild the engine from scratch."
Dean stared at her again, this time unable to help it. She's cute AND she knows how to rebuild a 383 cubic-inch engine? Even Sam was staring at Reggie, his mouth hanging slightly agape.
"You need a cup for that drool?" Reggie teased, finally pulling Dean from his reverie. He laughed and heard Sam laughing, too.
"Standard V-8 engine, right?" Dean asked, getting up to get a better look at the car and to keep his eyes from roaming over Reggie again. He really didn't want to do anything that might get them kicked out of the house before they'd had the chance to get all the information she could offer them.
Sam finished his beer and stood up. "I think I'm going to go grab another beer and leave you two motor-heads to talk blocks and headers." He left before either Dean or Reggie could respond.
"You know your cars," Reggie said as she stepped up next to Dean.
Dean nodded. "My dad taught me that there is nothing more important than taking care of your car. It's an extension of yourself. I know a good car when I see one and I can admire any person who knows how to do the same." Dean paused, glancing at Reggie out of the corner of his eye. "Do you still have it?"
"Damn straight. I put twenty-eight months of blood, sweat, and tears into that car. I'll show it to you tomorrow morning if you guys can stick around 'til then." She playfully punched Dean's shoulder. "By the way, where are you guys planning on sleeping tonight?"
"We'll probably just find a motel or something."
"Uh-uh, no way. I can't let you guys do that. You can stay here. We have plenty of room and I have to say, I can make a mean omelet, if you're interested."
I'm plenty interested, Dean thought to himself, but not exactly in the omelet. "That's nice of you to offer. Thanks."
"What is?" Sam asked as he came back into the living room, closely followed by Frank.
"Reggie offered to let us crash here for the night. She says she'll even cook breakfast in the morning. She claims to be a good cook," Dean replied, giving Reggie a devious smile.
"That is really nice of you. Thanks," Sam added. He eyed Dean and Reggie for a moment.
"Let me finish showing you guys around the house then." Reggie led them upstairs, Frank following silently behind them.